


Supernatural short stories

by krazyk2314



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 30,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazyk2314/pseuds/krazyk2314
Summary: Here you will find a mix of Supernatural Short Stories. Usually 2000 words or less, written for any Supernatural character. Warnings will be posted before each chapter.





	1. Field of Dreams

With the last dish drying on the towel, you wiped your hands on your jeans. The kitchen was clean, cleaner than it had been in months. Cookies were baked and stored where Dean wouldn’t find and eat them all. Pies were made, some frozen for later, an apple pie saved for tonight. You had even gone so far to make some dinners for the future, freezing them as well in that large, industrial fridge.   
You were ready for a quiet evening. Maybe a movie with Sam in your room, cuddled under the blankets. Or maybe an evening to yourself where you could sit and read that book you had completely forgotten about. Anything but think about the next job that would no doubt be happening soon.  
“Y/N? Are you in here?” Sam called out, leaning in as he searched for you. He had a huge smile on his face, a lock of hair falling in front of his eye no matter how many times he pushed it back.   
“Just finishing up,” you answered, reaching up and taking a couple of cookies from their hiding spot. Handing one to Sam, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. It was your favorite thing to do, snuggling into his embrace. The safest place you could imagine.   
“So I was wondering if we could go out tonight,” Sam spoke, his chest vibrating as he spoke.   
“Like a date?”  
He chuckled, and you snuggled deeper into his arms, the smell of old books and an earthy spice filling your nostrils. “Yes, like a date. We just haven’t had time for one in a while….and I thought it would be nice.”  
You smiled. “It has been quite some time since it’s just been you and I,” you answered. “I can’t wait.”  
“Good! Dress warm, and I’ll meet you at the Impala in twenty minutes,” he explained, quickly ghosting his lips over your cheek before bounding down the hallway. You watched him go, his hair flouncing with each step, his movements more joyous than you had seen in a long time.   
Taking a bite out of the chewy chocolate chip cookie, you sat down at the industrial table. You were excited for tonight. Even hopeful that it could turn into something more. You had been with Sam for almost two years, and while you knew a normal life was out of the question, you still couldn’t help but hope and wonder that just maybe…  
Taking a deep breath, you left the kitchen behind, passing Dean in the library to your bedroom. “Dress warm,” you mumbled, staring at your closet. Pulling out a wine colored sweater, you paired it with your favorite jeans. Warm socks and your nicer boots completed the outfit, along with your down jacket. Holding it over your arm, you arrived at the garage just as Sam did.   
He must have gotten dressed somewhere else. Dressed in a warm woolen pullover, he had his coat thrown in the backseat, along with blankets and a basket.   
“Ready?” He asked, starting the car.   
“How did you get away with taking the Impala?” You asked him, watching as the Bunker faded away. It was Autumn, the trees all around changing into vibrant oranges, rusty reds and golden yellows. The air smelled musty and earthy, and if it hadn’t been so chilly you would have rolled your window down.  
“I made a deal. One that you don’t want to know about,” Sam muttered, reaching over and grasping your hand. You watched as he nervously nibbled on the inside of this mouth, his other hand tapping the steering wheel.  
“So, where are we going?” You asked him, squeezing his hand encouragingly.   
“That’s a surprise,” he told you.   
You scooted over, leaning your head on his shoulder, watching as the sun set behind you. Sam drove away from town, turning on a graveled road. Trees turned into fields before Sam finally pulled to a stop. “Come on,” he said, taking the items in the backseat, reaching out to hold your hand as well. You grasped it willingly, walking through the freshly picked corn field, making sure you didn’t trip in the darkened evening.   
Sam came to the end of the field, turning to his left, and you followed him, wondering exactly where he was taking you. But as soon as the corn field ended you knew immediately why he was here. The area in front of you was clear, except for the small pond and gazebo in front of you. An old house sat off to the side, it’s windows long since boarded up. It should have looked creepy, but with the stars lighting the sky, it seemed almost serene. “I accidentally came upon this place a couple of years ago. On a ghost hunt. I’ve always liked this place, and often come here to think.”   
“I’d actually like a place like this. Well, maybe not the rundown house. But a house, surrounded by nature. With windows. I’d like windows,” you said as Sam spread the blanket on the floor of the gazebo.   
“Me too. It’s actually what I dreamed about, growing up. Getting out of this life, maybe becoming a lawyer. Having a family.”   
“It sounds nice,” you sighed, imagining it, knowing that you would want it with Sam at your side.   
“Here,” he said, handing you an individual bottle of wine, taking a beer bottle for himself. “I’ve been wanting to share this with you for a while. And tonight seemed like a perfect night for it.”  
Leaning back the railing, you smiled up at him. “Thank you for sharing.”  
He sat his beer down, turning to face you. “That’s not only the reason. Y/N, we’ve been together for what? Two years? I never imagined meeting someone as amazing as you, let only falling in love with you. You’ve made this life so much better than it ever could have been, and I know I want you by my side for as long as we live. I brought you out here to ask for the honor of you becoming my wife.”   
Your hopes and dreams coming true, you threw your arms around him, never even noticing the ring box he held in his hands. “Of course I will marry you! Sam, I love you so much,” you exclaimed.  
“That’s great! But wait, don’t you want to see the ring?


	2. Whipped Cream

Pounding the freshly made dough onto the counter, you sprinkled more flour onto it than necessary. Grumbling under your breath, you began kneading the pie crust. Probably harder than it needed, but you couldn’t help yourself.   
Your phone lay on the counter beside you, annoyingly silent. You had been waiting for a phone call for hours, and it still hadn’t come. To keep your mind away from the chance that something bad had happened, you turned to baking.   
One cake had turned into cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon rolls had turned into your favorite cookies, which you had already eaten two or three of. The rest were sealed away in the cupboard, hidden away from Dean’s roving fingers.  
You had turned to pies, even though you weren’t sure you would let Dean close to them now. Not since he had decided to take his time coming back from today’s hunt. Glancing back up at the clock, you were dismayed to see another hour had passed. Dean had promised to be home two hours ago, and you were beginning to fret.   
Reaching for the rolling pin, you tried to calm the swirl of emotions running through your system. Fear that something had gone wrong. Anger that he hadn’t called to tell you he was running late. That’s all you needed. Just a little phone call or text message to calm your worries, but your phone sat there, lightly dusted with flour, completely silent.  
Back and forth you pushed the rolling pin, hoping that the repeating motion would calm your nerves. But it only gave your mind more time to think. More time to worry. By the time you had the pie crust nice and even, your hands were shaking, your heart racing. Placing the dough carefully in the dish, you covered it with the already made apple pie filling. Adding the top crust, you placed it in the oven, dusting off your hands before taking yet another cookie from the cooling rack.  
“Hmm, chocolate cream pie,” you mumbled to yourself, needing to keep moving. Keep working even though you knew another pie wasn’t needed. But yet you took out the ingredients, easily whisking together the chocolate pudding mix while you picked your phone up. Checking to see if the volume had been turned to silent. You fears worsening when you realized it hadn’t. “Dean, where are you?” You quickly texted, hoping that at any moment Dean would be walking through that door.   
Dropping your phone onto the counter, you went to the fridge, pulling out the heavy cream. Pouring it into the metal bowl, you turned on the electric mixer, making the whipped cream topping for the pie. With the mixer on as fast as it could go, you didn’t hear the Bunker door open, the stumbling footsteps coming down the stairs.   
It wasn’t until Sam went walking past the kitchen door that you happened to look up. Just in time to see him push Dean through the door, rolling his eyes at you before walking away.  
Slowly you turned to look at Dean. Hoping that he wasn’t covered in blood.  
What you hadn’t expected was him swaying where he stood. His shirt was damp, but as he took a step closer to you, you could immediately smell….whiskey? “Dean, have you been drinking?”   
“Just a little,” he slurred, smiling at you, almost falling over in the process.   
Reaching out, he took another step closer, and it was then you could see the red lipstick on his collar, some of it smeared on his skin. “Dean, what the hell?” You exclaimed, taking a step back, shutting the mixer off when some of the whipped cream splattered on your shirt.   
“Hmm? I missed you,” he said, reaching out to hug you, but the counter was between the two of you, and for once you were grateful.  
“It doesn’t look like it,” you mumbled.   
“What? Oh, this?” He asked, trying to look at the lipstick stain on his shirt, turning around and around in the attempt. It would have been funny if you weren’t curiously furious with him. “I swear sweetheart, it’s nothing!”   
“Is that why you’re home so late? Without even a message,” you grumbled, leaving the bowl of whipped cream in your hands, trying to calm your rage.   
“Hunt was easy,” he boasted. “So I wanted a drink. And another. And another. And…,”  
“I get it. You wanted to drink instead of assuring me that the stupid werewolf hadn’t eaten you.”  
“Are you mad?” He asked, attempting to pull the puppy eye look that Sam had down so well. But with Dean being drunk, it came out more crossed eye and ridiculous.   
“I don’t get mad. I bake,” you muttered, your hand tight on the rim of the metal bowl. And before you knew it, you were throwing the bowl across the counter, right at Dean’s head. If he hadn’t been so intoxicated, Dean would have easily been able to duck the bowl. Instead it hit him right in the nose, whipped cream flying through the air, covering his face with the fluffy white mixture.   
“You know what? I am mad!” You yelled, your hands on your hip. “I’ve been waiting nervously all day for you to come back from the hunt. Hoping that you would be safe and sound when you walked through that door. But I could do nothing but wait, my phone quiet while you went and drank! And had some stupid girl all over you. So yeah I baked! But I’m also freaking mad as well!”   
All the worry and unease you had felt while Dean had been gone turned into anger. Grabbing the bowl of chocolate pudding mix, you tossed it at him as well, the pudding landing on his red flannel with a flop.   
“I’m sorry I didn’t message you,” he told you, ignoring the pudding mix as it slid down his chest, most of it landing on the floor. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, and you could immediately see the cracked screen. “Sam’s is the same as well.”   
“That doesn’t mean why you couldn’t call at the bar. I was worried,” you told him. “And it doesn’t explain the lipstick!”   
“Drunk lady at the bar attacked me,” he tried explaining. “Threw her arms around me, wouldn’t listen to me.”   
“You expect me to believe that?”   
Just then Sam stepped into the kitchen, freezing at the sight in front of him. Dean hadn’t wiped off any of the whipped cream or pudding, and you knew from the look on Sam’s face he was trying not to laugh. “Is this a bad time?”   
“Yes,” Dean yelled just as you said no.   
“Sam, did a lady really throw herself at Dean?” You asked him.   
He chuckled lightly before nodding. “Yes she did. Literally unbuttoned her shirt until she was almost indecent, threw herself into his arms, and kissed him before Dean could push her off. Is that what this is all about?”  
“And our phones!” Dean exclaimed.  
“Damn it Dean, I thought you had called her!”   
“The pay phone was broken,” he pouted.   
Suddenly all your anger seemed to fade away now that everything was explained. Taking a deep breath, you caught Dean peering around the kitchen, his eyes wide as he took in all the baked goods. “No pie?”   
“Besides the one you’re wearing? There’s an apple pie baking in the oven.”  
Awesome!” He exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug, forgetting the pudding covering his shirt, his face pressed against yours, covering you as well with the whipped cream.


	3. Popping for some fun

It was one of those days. Even though the sun was shining outside, you felt as if stormy clouds and rain followed you everywhere you went. It hit you like a bag of bricks as soon as you woke up in the morning, and you wanted nothing more than to roll over and sleep the day away.  
But you knew that was impossible. Both of your brothers were no doubt up and starting research. If you didn’t join them soon, one or the either would no doubt be knocking on your door, reminding you of another ghoulish monster they needed to kill. There never seems enough time for yourself, and it was beginning to fray at your nerves.   
After forcing yourself out of bed, you stumbled your way into the kitchen. Only your brother Sam sat there, his bowl of cereal untouched as he stared at the book in front of him. Ignoring him, you opened the fridge door, staring at the meager contents inside. “Ugh, we don’t have anything.”  
“Why don’t you go to the store?” Sam called out, never looking away from his book.   
“Why don’t you?” You muttered, taking the bowl of cereal from him, staring down in disdain at the soggy cereal. Tossing it back down on the table, you picked up his toast, grumbling as you turned to leave the kitchen.   
“Y/N everything okay?” Sam called out.  
“Great, just great,” You called over your shoulder, sighing as you went back to your bedroom. You weren’t mad at him, truth be told, you weren’t exactly mad at anyone. You were just tired, and wanted time for yourself.   
You were almost back in the safety of your room when Dean caught up with you. He smelled of motor oil and grease, his cheek smeared. A part of you wanted to dive straight into his arms and the comfort they always provided you. But you didn’t want to worry him, not with everything else going on.  
“There’s my favorite brat!” He exclaimed, reaching forward to ruffle your hair, but you stepped back, away from his blackened hands. He frowned, tucking his hands in his pockets instead.   
“Dean, just leave me alone,” you muttered, stepping in your room and shutting the door. You know you probably did nothing but confused and hurt him, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted your silence, the quiet comfort being alone gave you. Even if it did hurt at the same time.   
Finishing off your toast, you sat with your back against your headboard, drawing your legs up tight. Resting your chin on your knees, you stared at the picture across from you. It was of happier times, when you hadn’t known about any of this. Sam and Dean weren’t in your life. In fact, you hadn’t even known you had brothers until that stupid ghoul had killed the only family you had known.   
And sometimes, no matter how much you loved having Sam and Dean in your life, you wished you could go back. Life had been so uncomplicated back then. So perfectly...normal.  
“Y/N, open up!” Dean called out, banging on the door. He didn’t sound mad, or grumpy. Maybe concerned, which was almost worse.   
“Dean, I’m fine. Just wanting some time alone,” you tried telling him, but before the last word left your lips Dean was opening the door and barging in.  
“Yeah, you want time and quiet and blah, blah, blah. But Sammy and I? We need your help with something.”  
“Do you really?”  
“Of course!” He exclaimed, reaching over and grabbing your hand. When you didn’t budge, he leaned down, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder. “Dean!” You exclaimed, but he refused to put you down. Carrying you down the hallway, he just chuckled as you struggled.   
“Dean, why are you carrying her?” Sam asked as Dean rounded the corner. Sam was setting something up at the library table, but you only caught a glimpse of it while being carried upside down.   
“She didn’t want to come,” Dean answered, as if it was the most simplest answer ever.   
Sighing, Sam smiled encouragingly at you when Dean plopped you down on a chair. “Dean, we’re not trying to annoy her even more. We’re trying to…,”  
“Yeah I know. But you do it your way, I do it mine,” Dean said as he ruffled your hair. It was then you saw the old fashioned popcorn popper on the table, Sam already filling the popper with popcorn. But you could quickly see his mistake.   
“Sam! That’s not how you make popcorn!” You exclaimed, noticing they hadn’t brought the lid along with the machine.  
“Yeah it is,” he argued. “This is a popcorn popper. You turn it on, place the popcorn in, and it pops. Simple.”  
You watched as a couple of kernels popped out. “No, you need the lid!!”   
Dean cocked his head slightly, before picking up the clear plastic lid. “You mean this?”  
Nodding, you reached for it, but he held it up, out of your view. You could hear the popcorn warming up, a couple fluffy white pieces falling out. “Yeah, Sam and   
I thought we would try this differently. So watch out, and see if you can catch a piece or two.”  
A piece popped up, hitting you in the nose, making you giggle. But what actually put a smile on your face was watching Sam and Dean attempting to catch the popcorn, popping it in their mouth when they did.   
Soon you were laughing, standing in a snowfall of popcorn as Sam added more kernels to the machine. Grabbing a handful from the table, you threw them at Dean, laughing when he caught as many as he could, shoving them in his mouth until he looked like a chipmunk.  
It was almost ten minutes later when the machine ran out of kernels. The floor was completely covered in the puffy white snack, and you had eaten your fill. Both Sam and Dean had plopped down in the chairs, a contented smile on their face. And it made you realize. Sure the hunting life wasn’t easy. And there were days that you felt completely helpless, or stressed beyond belief. But this was your normal life now, with your brothers who cared greatly for you. And you wouldn’t change it for anything.


	4. The Gift of Warmth

“I have a surprise for you,” Sam told you as soon as he came into view. You were currently lounging in bed, wrapped tightly in a blanket, staring at the book in front of you.   
“Yeah?” You asked, giving him a wobbly smile. “Is it chocolate?”  
He sat down on the bed next to you, reaching for your hand. “Much better. Get dressed, we leave in an hour.”

Five Hours Later  
“A cabin?” You exclaimed, staring at the scene in front of you. It seemed almost fake, it was so perfect. Snow was softly falling, lightly blanketing the ground in front of you. The cabin was small, a wrap around porch with rocking chairs the prominent feature. “This is your surprise?”  
He looked over at you, nervously nibbling on his lip. “Is that okay?”   
You smiled at him, amazed at how far he would go to make you feel happy. “Sam, this is absolutely perfect.”  
Taking your hand, he guided you up the steps, reaching into his pocket to pull out the key. Opening the door, he stepped aside, letting you enter first. The cabin was small, with an open floor design. Fully furnished, the furniture looked comfortable and inviting, especially the two armchairs placed by the fireplace. “I’ll be right back,” Sam assured you, heading back outside, leaving you to wander. The kitchen was barely enough to fit two people at the most, with a large window providing the perfect picturesque scene of the forest behind you.   
The cabin was chilly, and you pulled a blanket off the back of a couch just as Sam came back in, his arms full of the things he had packed. “I’ll get that fire started in just a sec. Why don’t you sit down and relax.”  
“I can get dinner going,” you offered, but he shook his head. “This weekend is all about you. I want you to sit back and relax, and let me take care of you. Please.”   
You could see he wasn’t going to say no. He had nothing but love for you in his gaze, along with the compassion that made him unique. Without fighting, you walked over to the oversized armchair, sitting down. It enveloped you, more comfortable than anything you had back at the bunker. “This is amazing,” you whispered as Sam came over, a fluffy blanket in his arms. “Can we bring this chair back with us?”  
“I don’t think they’d like that,” he answered, placing the blanket on your lap. “But maybe we could find something close on our way back home.”  
Snuggling in, you listened to the sound of him rustling about, getting the fire started. Humming to himself as he worked, he quickly had the fire roaring. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he squeezed your shoulder gently. “Why don’t you take a nap while I get dinner ready. I hope soup and grilled cheese are okay.”   
A mumble was the only answer he received. With the heat of the fire and the warmth of the blanket, you were cozy and content. Sam moved away towards the kitchen, and you snuggled deeper into the chair.  
You weren’t surprised Sam had come up with something like this. He had been worried about you lately. You felt guilty for pulling away from him, drawing back into yourself. But your depression had slowly takeits’s hold of you, and even Sam’s caring disposition hadn’t been able to stop the slide.   
Your bedroom had become your only safe haven. Your bed your refuge.   
“Dinner, sweetheart,” Sam spoke softly, and you opened your eyes to see his hazel ones smiling down at you. He had a tray in his hands, two bowls with steaming soup along with grilled cheeses. It smelled amazing, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten anything at all so far today.   
Placing the tray on your lap, Sam took his own bowl, sitting down across from you. “I thought we could stay here this weekend. Leave Monday. There’s no TV, but there is a hot tub out back. The bedroom also has a King Size Bed with an amazing view, so I don’t mind if we stay in there all weekend.”  
“I’d like to try the hot tub,” you assured him before taking another spoonfulof soup.   
Finishing off his bowl, Sam stood up. “Want any more?”  
Shaking your head, you dipped your sandwichin the soup, taking another bite. He headed towards the kitchen, refilling his bowl. “Oh, by the w,ay I have another surprise for you.”  
“You do?”  
“After dinner,” he promised, coming back.   
Setting your bowl back on the tray, you peered over at him. “You don’t have to do this.”  
The spoon hung halfway to his mouth as he met your gaze. “Do what?”  
Waving your empty spoon around at the cabin you continued. “This. The cabin, the surprises. You don’t have to keep walking on tiptoes around me, showering me with presents. I just get this way sometimes, and all I need is you by my side.”  
“But I want to do this for you,” he insisted. “I know how hard our life is. How easy it can be to get down. I want you to know that you’ll never be alone as you fight your way back. I want to be by your side, helping you as much as you’ll let me. And actual,ly that’s why I have this second surprise.”  
Leaving his bowl by the fireplace, he headed towards the bedroom. Setting the tray on the ground, you waited, wondering what on Earth he had planned.   
You didn’t have to wait long. Coming down the hallway, a large box in his arms. Setting it down in your lap, he stood back. “The lady who owns this cabin helped me out with this.”  
Wondering exactly what it could be, you went to open it, your eyes widening as a pitiful meow sounded inside. “Sam, is it?”  
“Look and see.”  
Quickly opening the box, you reached in, picking up the adorable kitten. It was small and sleek, it’s calico coat a mixture of browns and gold and mainly black. Her ears were folded back, her eyes large and golden. “She said it was a Scottish Fold. Their ears stay like that. I hope you don’t mind. I just thought she’d be good company when you really didn’t want anyone else around.”   
“I think she’s absolutely perfect!” You exclaimed as she snuggled up against you. “But what about Dean? Isn’t he allergic?”  
“I’ve already thought of that. I’ve talked to him, and we both figure the bunker’s big enough for him and a kitten. He just wants you to be happy too. And is willing to do pretty much anything to help out.”  
“I don’t deserve the two of you,” you whispered, a tear trickling down your cheek. Sighing, Sam leaned down, picking you and the kitten up in his arms. Staggering a step or two back, he sank down in his own armchair, holding you tight against him. “You deserve everything and more. I just wish I could give it to you. I love you, so much, and I just want to see you happy.”  
“You’ve done a pretty good job of it,” you snuffled, the kitten falling asleep in your arms while you settled against Sam, feeling content for the first time in quite some time.


	5. Codes

Your footsteps sounding like thunder, you raced down the hallway, your heart beating loud enough that you were sure to be heard. Taking a second to glance behind you, you noticed nothing. No red-eyed monsters rushing behind you. No sound of being followed. It didn’t mean they weren’t there, and that thought scared you even more.  
Your attention back on the route in front of you, you skidded against the wall as you rounded the corner. The hallway loomed long in front of you, a couple of doors on each side. It was dark, the light at the end flickering.   
Trying the first door, it wouldn’t budge. Racing down the hallway, knowing it was only a matter of time before you were found, you tried each handle. It wasn’t until the fourth one that you felt the give of the handle. Gasping in relief, you slipped into the darkened room, hoping you hadn’t just made a horrible mistake.   
In the darkness, you could just make out storage containers, piled high. Leaving the door behind, you slipped further into the room, trying to find a place to hide. Where those Monsters would never be able to find you.   
Backing up farther into the room, your shoulder bumped against one of the containers, knocking it to the ground with an echoing thud. “Oh no,” you whispered. Reaching down to pick it up, your hand connected with something sticky and cold. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you turned the flashlight on, almost gagging at the sight in front of you. Shifter skins, already shed, were stored for some reason in the totes. It smelled horrible, and you refused to pick it up and place it back in the container.   
The door slammed open, and you quickly shut the flashlight off your phone, leaving the mess and crawling towards the back. “This is where we keep it all. The skins of every person we’ve changed into. That way we always have a backup.”  
You didn’t give him the pleasure of answering. You were too busy trying to find a place to hide. You could hear his footsteps as he moved closer to you, and you continued to move backward, finally finding a place you thought might be a good hiding place. It was in between a couple of totes, hidden back against the wall.   
“You think you can hide from me. The leader of the shifters. A stupid, little hunter girl. I can smell your fear. There’s no place you can hide from me.”  
As soon as those words were said, a hand reached down, grasping you by the hair and pulling you to your feet. Screaming, you tried pulling away, ignoring your stinging scalp. “Wait, I know you. You’re Sam and Dean’s little friend!”  
“And they won’t stop until I’m back safe with them,” you threatened, clutching your phone tightly in one hand as you reached up and tried to pry his hand from your hair. “Let me go and I’ll let you live.”  
He chuckled, letting go of your hair. But your freedom was short-lived as he grasped your arm, tight enough to bruise. “I like your spirit. I think you’ll be the perfect little toy for my children.”  
“Children?” You stuttered, only making him laugh once again.   
“This is where we come to raise our shifter children. Teach them how to blend in. How not to get caught by hunters like yourself. They learn how to kill, how to take other people’s forms. It’s the perfect training facility, and you’re the first person to ever find it.”  
“Lucky me,” you muttered.   
“Lucky you,” he agreed. As if you weighed nothing, he pulled you along behind him, out to the dimly lit corridor. Glancing down, he noticed your phone still in your hand. “Hmm, have you called those two bumbling giants to come to save you.”  
You refused to answer. Sure, you hadn’t called them yet, but you wanted him to feel fear, much as you felt it right then. Reaching down, he easily pulled the phone from your grasp, frowning when he realized he needed your fingerprint to open it. Slamming you against the wall, he held his forearm against your throat, pressing hard while he took your other hand. Pressing your thumb on the screen, he opened your phone.   
While he was busy scrolling through your phone, checking for messages, you used your free hand to reach into your back pocket. Pulling out the little silver knife you held back there, you sliced it forward, slashing his cheek.   
“You bitch!” He screamed, almost dropping your phone as he shoved your head against the wall. The cut on his cheek looked angry and swollen, but your knife had dropped to the floor in your tustle. “You’ll pay for that.”   
Your head aching from being slammed against the wall, you watched as he tapped away at your phone. Smiling wickedly up at you, he pressed the speaker button. “Let’s let Dean know how his little love is doing, shall we?”  
Your heart beating furiously, you listened to your phone ringing. Trying to remember all of the code words you had come up with. Words that you would never use in a sentence, but that Dean would know there was trouble.   
“Y/N! Where are you?” Dean’s voice rang out in the hallway.   
The pressure against your throat eased up a little bit, enough for you to talk. “Dean, I’m in some sort of tenebrous place,” you started, using the first of your code words. Telling him that you were being held against your will.  
“I know how much you hate those places,” Dean spoke, but you could hear the panic behind his words, the grinding of his teeth. You had no doubt he had called Sam over to the phone, both already planning a way to come save you.   
“I do. It’s very Obstreperous,” you continued, the shifter squinting his eyes at the large words you were using. But you didn’t care. You had just told Dean that you were being held, and you weren’t sure there was a way out. There was one last code word for you to use. One that you hated to because you knew it would drive fear into Dean’s heart. But you needed him to realize just how bad the situation was.   
“Dean, I’ve thought hard, but there is no cogent way about this place,” you spoke, the words catching in your throat.  
“You bitch!” The shifter screamed, slamming your head against the wall. “You’re giving him code words, aren’t you?”  
“No,” you pleaded, feeling a sticky warmth coating your hair. “Please.”  
“Hurt her and you will die,” Dean threatened, his words so low they were almost a growl. “I will come, and I will kill you.”  
“I wish you speed and luck. I could always use a couple more warm bodies for prey,” the shifter said before smashing your phone against the wall.   
“There, that was fun,” he told you, his eyes glowing in the gloomy hallway before he slammed your head against the wall once more, and you knew no more.


	6. Heartache and Black Eyes

“You’re a Demon now, you listen to me,” Crowley growled next to your ear. “I don’t care what happened before you were killed. None of that matters now. Forget it and move on.”  
You nodded, wanting to please him. You were more than grateful to be away from the rack and torture, but you weren’t quite sure you were ready for this. Not yet.  
“Hmm,” he muttered, standing up and staring at you. “I don’t think you’re ready for this.”  
“I am!” You pleaded, flashing a pair of black eyes his way. “I’m ready for mayhem and killing, and….,”  
He smiled, reaching over and cupping your cheek. “I know you are. I wouldn’t have plucked you off the rack if you weren’t. I’m just afraid there are still memories embedded into that mind of yours that will distract you from our goal. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you have your old meat suit back.”  
Snapping his fingers, he stepped back, perching on the edge of his black throne. You stood there, watching as his Mother stepped into the room, wearing a silky long black dress, her expression bored. “You snapped my love?”  
“Mother, this is Y/N. I think you remember her.”  
Rowena glanced over at you, her eyes widening slightly when she realized who you were. “Crowley, this is.. I thought she died, but…,”  
“I had a couple of strings pulled, and I brought her down here before she was claimed up above. Even saved her meatsuit before those two buffons could burn it,” Crowley announced, very pleased with himself.   
You stayed still as Rowena took a step closer to you, her gaze traveling up and down your body, searching. Studying. “She’s been on the rack?” Crowley nodded. “She isn’t ready. She will fight your every move.”  
“No I won’t!” You pleaded. “Please. Don’t put me back on the rack.”  
“Don’t worry dearie, I have another plan,” Rowena purred. “If the King doesn’t mind.”  
“That’s why I called you in here Mother,” Crowley answered. “I want you to make sure she becomes one of my top killing machines.”  
With that Crowley left you alone with Rowena. “Sit,” she ordered, reaching into her bag and pulling out her spell books.. Setting it down on the wooden table beside her, she began searching for a spell, mumbling quietly under her breath. “Here, this one shall do nicely. All memories will be gone. That should open you up to Crowley’s orders.”  
Suddenly it felt as if ropes were wrapped around you, holding you tight to the chair. “This might be very unpleasant for you, but you’re a Demon. You’re used to much worse by now I suspect.”  
She came over with a large bowl, steaming and smelling worse than the dungeons of Hell. With a big wooden spoon, she lifted the ingredients up, shoving them into your mouth. It tasted like moldy lake water mixed with the putrid taste of milk gone bad. Gagging, you could feel your stomach churn, but Rowena placed a hand over your mouth, keeping the liquid inside. Swallowing, your eyes watered, but the mixture stayed down.  
“This will take some time to work. I’ll leave you here. I reckon you’ll be too sick to move,” Rowena told you, patting your cheek before taking her book and ingredients and leaving you alone.   
A warmth spread from your stomach, growing hotter as it traveled up your chest, your neck to your head. It felt like it was splitting you open, and you couldn’t help but cry out in pain. Much like a snake, it slithered through your mind, heading straight for your memories. You could tell the moment it attached, the memory fresh in your mind. The first time you met Dean. It was on a hunt, and you ended up rescuing him from the Vamp.   
Suddenly that memory was gone, like it had never happened. Next it was the moment you had realized you were in love with Dean. Sitting in the kitchen, watching as he wielded a sword, wearing that ridiculous robe. But as you thought hard, trying to hold on to it, the memory faded away in your mind.   
The spell wove it’s way through each of your memories, tearing each one away. Dean slowly faded away, along with the love you had felt for him. With each weave, the spell tore away the only thing that had kept you going on that rack. The only tie you had left to humanity.  
As suddenly as it started, it ended. And you felt nothing. It was as if your soul was empty, a big black hole swirling about inside. The rope binding had long since faded and yet you stayed put. Waiting. For what you weren’t sure.   
The door swung open, and Crowley walked inside, curiously looking your way. “Y/N?”  
“Hello Crowley,” you muttered, your voice monotone, your eyes unblinking.  
“Y/N, who is Dean?” He asked, watching you carefully.  
“Dean? I don’t know this Dean you speak of,” you told him, wondering why his face lit up with glee.  
“Perfect! That’s perfect. So you won’t mind if I send you to kill him then,” Crowley continued, clapping his hands together.   
“I’m a Demon. Isn’t that what we love to do? Killing and torturing people?” 

Dean’s POV

Sitting at the long library table, I swirled the whiskey in my glass. Wondering if I was really going to finish off another bottle of whiskey. Knowing that it was probably going to happen anyways, along with another bottle after that.  
Whiskey seemed to be the only thing that mattered to me after...well, after my entire world had changed. Whiskey dulled the pain. It took away the memories of her smile, the way she fit perfectly in my arms. It almost worked well enough to take away her horrified screams as the werewolf tore her to shreds right in front of me. But there would never be enough whiskey in the world for that.  
“Dean, maybe it’s time to head for bed,” Sam suggested. I glanced over the cup to see him standing at the edge of the table, staring down at me with a concerned expression. It was easy to see this wasn’t easy on him as well, but I couldn’t begin to care. My heartbreak overwhelmed my every sense, my every emotion.   
“I can’t,” I whispered, knowing that if I went in there the memories would hit me like a freight train. Her smell still lingered on her pillow, so faint now that I had to bury my head in the fabric. Her clothes were still folded on top of the dresser, waiting for her to come home and put them away. I hadn’t had the heart to fix that yet. Every part of my room reminded me of her, and I hadn’t been able to sleep in there. Not yet.   
“Not in that room,” Sam was quick to say. “I fixed up one of the spare rooms. It even has memory foam.”  
“Maybe later,” I placated him, even though I didn’t plan on moving out of that chair anytime soon.  
Sighing, Sam walked away, heading towards the hallway, and no doubt his own bed. I watched him, noticing the way his shoulders were hunched, feeling even more regret that I couldn’t make him feel better. But I was too wrapped up in my own guilt. My own regrets of not being there to save her.   
“You know Dean, it wasn’t your fault,” Sam said. “You did everything you could. She wouldn’t want you drinking yourself into oblivion. She would want you up in the garage, working on the cars there. She’d want you out hunting. She wouldn’t want either of us mourning for her.”  
I ignored his words, picking up my whiskey and downing it before pouring another glass. When I looked up, he was gone. Slamming back that glass of whiskey, I reached for the bottle, realizing it was empty. Stumbling to my feet, I reached the liquor cabinet, searching through the bottles, my heart hammering when I realized each and every one was empty. “No,” I whispered, needing the comfort that alcohol provided.   
Remembering my stash in the garage, I stumbled down the hallway, crashing against the wall before righting myself. The garage was cold, and quiet, the light flickering above me. Paying it no heed, I continued on to my tool chest, walking past all the old cars that Y/N loved so much. I was about ready to reach in to get my prize when something rustled behind me.  
Even in my inebriated state I knew something wasn’t right. Turning so fast I almost fell over, I caught a glimpse of movement by the 1920’s car. A familiar blur of hair that I knew so well. “It can’t be,” I whispered, just as the vision charged from her hiding spot, tackling me to the ground.  
“Y/N!” I exclaimed as she landed on top of me. Her lips were pulled back in a snarl, a wicked looking knife in her throat. But the gashes and cuts were gone, and she looked just as beautiful as always. Except her brilliant e/c eyes were a horrid black. “No,” I breathed, too shocked to do anything but stare up at her.  
“How do you know me?” She snarled, pressing the knife against my throat.   
I knew that this was probably a Demon possessing her lifeless body. But I still couldn’t help but take in the sight I never thought I would have seen again. “You’re possessing my girlfriend. The love of my life. I think you would have realized that since you came to attack me.”  
“This is my own meatsuit,” she answered. “Crowley made sure I kept it. But I do not know you.”  
Those words stung deep. “Y/N, if it is you, deep down you’ll remember me. Remember the times we spent together. How much you loved me.”  
She pulled the knife back slightly, her eyes changing back to the color I had loved. She leaned down, sniffing the leather jacket she had always loved, her eyes widening. “This feels familiar,” she whispered, running her hand along my cheek. “But I have no memory of you.”  
“Crowley must have wiped your memory!” I exclaimed. “But we can fix this. I can make you the person you were.”  
She seemed to like my offer, the hand holding the knife turning lax. I could see Sam sneaking into the garage, a gun in his hand.   
“I don't remember that the person,” she snarled, bringing the knife back. “I'm a Demon! We don't deal with emotions, or love or…,” she growled, raising the knife in the air.  
“Sam, now!” I called out. Grabbing her arms jus tr as the blade swung down, Sam pulled her away before the blade connected.  
Hissing and thrashing about, she tried to pull away.  
“Sam, it's her! Meat suit and all. We can save her!”


	7. Written in Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jensen x Reader

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” you sang along to the radio, wiping your flour covered hands along your jeans. You were sure there was flour in your hair, maybe even on your nose. Your fingers were covered in food coloring, but you didn’t mind. You were in your element, completely happy. Christmas music was playing, cookies were baking. A batch was freshly cooled and ready for decorating while the first batch was already covered in bright and cheery frosting.

The only thing that could have made today better was if Jensen had found his way home. It was only a couple of days until Christmas, and he was still filming in Vancouver.

You had a special cookie for him, setting on the side of the drying rack. You planned on wrapping it by itself, giving it to him the morning of Christmas. 

Still smiling, you began rolling out the next batch of cookies, the radio still blaring Christmas songs loud enough that the sound of the garage door shutting wasn’t heard. Humming along, you placed the reindeer shaped cookie on the sheet, reaching to grab another one when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

Squealing, you reached for the rolling pin when the familiar laughter broke through the christmas song currently playing on the radio. “What did I say about playing your music so loud?”

“That I wouldn’t hear if anyone was here,” you answered, turning around in his arms so you could squeeze him tight. “But it’s Christmas music!” 

Rolling his eyes, he reached up, gently wiping the flour from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m so glad I made it home today. I love it when you bake.”

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his for a moment, relieved he had made it home safe and sound. “The best present I could ask for. And it’s not even Christmas yet.”

You could see him inching his hand closer to the tray of cookies, his body pressing tight against yours. So caught up in the feel of his arms around you, you didn’t notice at first what cookie he had grabbed. But when he raised it to his mouth, you noticed the different colored frosting. “Jensen, wait!” You exclaimed. “Not that cookie!”

His mouth open, his eyebrow raised, he glanced down at the cookie, wondering exactly what was so special about it. You could tell the exact moment he noticed, his eyes widening, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Is this…are we….?”

“Yep. It was your Christmas present,” you answered. Quickly setting the cookie down, he glanced down at your still normal sized belly. “I found out a couple of days ago, and tried to figure out the perfect way to tell you.” 

“Anyway is perfect. This has to be the best present ever,” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug.


	8. Bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared x Reader

Taking yet another tote from the garage, you placed it down on the driveway, wondering exactly what you had gotten yourself into. Decorating the front of the house with lights had always been a tradition with you and your Dad. But now that he was gone, the tradition had fallen on your shoulders.   
Your Mom had assured you that she would be fine without lights this year. Knowing all the work involved, and how busy you were. But it didn’t seem right. Coming home for Christmas to a dark house, one that had always been so warm and inviting.   
But you couldn’t leave it that way. Not for you, and not for your Mom. Both of you were struggling with the season, missing your Dad more and more each day. A little brightness was needed.  
Opening the hard plastic, you began pulling out the huge tangeled mess of wire and lights. Sighing, you sat down, beginning the long task of untangling them so you could hang them up.  
An hour later, you felt like you hadn’t made any headway. Sure, there were some strands laying on the grass, untangled and checked to make sure they were working. But so many more were needing your attention, and you weren’t sure how much more you were willing to do.   
“Y/N!” A very familiar voice called out. A voice from your childhood, one that you had missed so much.  
Dropping the strands to the ground, you stood up, just in time to be engulfed in a huge warm embrace. Sinking into the soft flannel, smelling the familiar musk that he always seemed to smell like. It was what you needed most today. “Jared, what are you doing here?”  
“I had to come home for Christmas. Mom said you were here, and I didn’t want you facing this alone.” He told you, stepping back so you could look up at his face. His unique hazel eyes searched your face, his hair shaggier than ever. He had a hint of a beard on his face, and he looked tired. But he was here, and it was for you.   
“Jared, thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. I know you’re busy filming, and you have that girlfriend. I just thought you’d spend the holiday with her.”  
“About that,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair. “We broke up.”  
You squeezed his arm comfortingly, noticing your Mom watching through the window. “Jar, I’m so sorry.”   
He shrugged. “I was the one to break it off. It just wasn’t working.”   
“Well, since you’re here, maybe you could help a girl out,” you suggested, ready to spend some time with your old childhood friend. A man you had always had strong feelings for. “I have all these lights, and I want to make this place look special. Just like Dad always did.”  
“I’d love to!” He exclaimed, picking up one strand of lights. “Why don’t you get them ready, and I’ll hang them up?”  
“Sounds great. You probably won’t even need a ladder,” you teased. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the ladder before heading to the porch. Standing on the porch, he reached up, his flannel shirt pulling upwards, showing the sharp bone of his hip. He was skinnier than you remembered, and you hoped you could bribe him with a cookie or two afterwards. Maybe even some hot chocolate.   
“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” He asked when you brought him another strand of lights. “Me and you, playing out in our connected front yards. Your Mom watching from the window, making sure we were behaving.”  
“I don’t think I could handle this if you weren’t here,” you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes.   
Coming down from the ladder, Jared used the pad of his thumb to brush away the tear.   
“I’ll always be here for you,” he assured you. “Actually, that’s why my last relationship didn’t work. Or, if I’m being truthful, all of them. Because they weren’t you. I never felt like I could be myself around them. Not like with you.”  
“Jar, what are you saying?”   
“I wanted to be here for you because I knew this Christmas was going to be hard. But I also wanted to be here because I finally figured it out. You’re the first person I want to talk to. You’ve always been there for me, and it’s taken me this long to realize that I love you.”   
“You do?” You asked, wondering if this was really happening. You had secretly dreamed of this moment for quite some time, but you hadn’t expected it to happen.  
“Please say you feel the same. That I’m not the only one,” he pleaded.   
“Jar, I’ve wanted to say something for a long time. I’ve just been too scared,” you admitted. “But I love you too.”   
“Great!” He exclaimed, pulling you in for a tight hug.   
“Maybe this Christmas won’t be so hard after all,” you whispered.


	9. Christmas Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jensen x Reader

“Y/N go sit on Santa’s lap!” Misha called out as he came back with a round of drinks for your little group. Shaking your head emphatically, you almost tipped over in the process. After spending the last couple of hours at the Christmas party, you had drunk quite a bit of alcohol and you were feeling the effects.  
“That’s creepy,” you argued. “I don’t want sitting on some old man’s lap. Who knows where his hands will end up.”  
“Fine, I have an idea,” Jared spoke up, coming to wrap his arms around your shoulder and Jensen’s. “I’ll sit on his lap and you three stand behind him.”   
Giggling nervously as Jared pulled you even closer to Jensen, you shook your head. “You’ll squish the poor man! We’ll let Misha. He’s the smallest of you three.”  
Misha pretended to look offended. “I hope you realize that if I’m not standing by those two yeti’s, I happen to be a tall man myself. But I don’t mind sitting on the old man’s lap. Maybe he’ll grant my Christmas wish.”  
“Well if that man won’t, they have a little letter writing station set up to the side,” you assured him. Jared grabbed a hold of Misha’s arm, pulling him along, leaving you to follow behind with Jensen.   
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Jensen assured you. “You know how Misha and Jared get.”  
You smiled over at him, blushing slightly under his attention. “I think a picture with the four of us and Santa would be a nice way to end the Christmas party.”  
His eyes widened. “Y/N, it’s not even midnight, and you’re already planning on leaving us?”  
You shrugged, but your answer was never given when Jared reached over, grabbing you and dragging you to stand behind Santa’s velvet red chair. Squishing you between him and Jensen, you started giggling when Misha plopped down on Santa’s lap, wrapping his arms around the poor man’s shoulders.  
“Smile!” The photographer called out, quickly snapping the photo. While Misha began telling the disgruntled Santa exactly what he wanted. Leaving Jensen and Jared talking, you meandered over to the letter writing table. Mainly for the children who had been there earlier, there still were plenty of paper to and pens. Sitting down, your head already starting to pound from the alcohol, you picked up a pen. Giving in to temptation, you wrote down a couple of items you were hoping to receive. Nibbling on your lip, you quickly wrote down the last item, knowing you would let no one else read this. Otherwise, you would die from embarrassment.   
“Telling Santa what you want?” Jared asked, coming up from behind you. Turning to face him, your cheeks flushed, you stood up.  
“Just silly things. Like a new scarf,” you mumbled quickly. “Can you tell Jensen and Misha good night for me? I’m going to head back to my trailer for a couple hours sleep before my plane ride tomorrow.”  
“Of course,” he assured you, pulling you in for a tight hug. “Be safe.”   
You patted his cheek before heading to the door. Not noticing the fact that your hand was now empty, and Jared was currently staring down at a slip of paper in shock. 

Jared’s POV  
Watching as Y/N headed out into the cold night air, I realized that she had left her wishlist behind. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but she had seen almost embarrassed by what she had written. Searching the table, I recognized her handwriting. Almost feeling as if I was reading her diary, I skimmed the items. Mainly normal items. Her favorite perfume, that scarf she had been eyeing for a while now. But it was the item on the bottom that had my eyes growing wide, a mischevious smile growing on my face.   
“Hey, Jensen!” I called out, pulling him away from his conversation with Misha as they both stared at the picture we had taken. “I think you’re going to want to see this!”   
Leaving Misha with the picture, Jensen came over, clapping his hand on my back. “What’s up? Where did Y/N go?”   
“She went back to her trailer, called it a night. But Jensen, you need to see this,” I said, handing him the paper. Wondering if Y/N was going to hate me for this. But I knew how Jensen felt for her, I just hadn’t realized Y/N had felt the same.   
Raising an eyebrow, Jensen took the paper quickly reading through each item. I could tell the exact moment he read his name at the end. His mouth parted, his hand clutching the paper tightly. “Is this some sort of joke?” He whispered, his eyes full of hope staring my way. “Jared, if you think this is funny…,”  
I held my hands up, letting him know I had nothing to do with this. “Jensen I promise. I just found it. But you needed to know. You two have wasted enough time. So what are you going to do about it?”

Your POV

It took three times before you were able to unlock the door of your trailer. Leaving the main room dark, you went straight for the bedroom, switching on the light. Your head pounded, and you wanted nothing more than three or four hours sleep before you had to fight through the airport. Unzipping your dress, you slid it over your head, reaching for a pair of leggings and your favorite shirt. You had snitched it from the costume department. One of Dean’s t-shirts that they were planning to throw out. It had a fake blood stain on the side but was barely noticeable anymore. It didn’t smell like Jensen, but you still enjoyed the soft fabric and knowing that Jensen had once worn it.   
Pulling your hair into a thick bun, you were about ready to climb into bed when a sharp knock echoed through your trailer. Frowning at the intrusion, you walked the short distance to the door. “Who is it?” You called out.   
“Jensen. And it’s freezing cold out here!” He called, and you quickly pulled the door open. Expecting him to walk in, wondering what he wanted, he surprised you instead. Pulling you into his embrace, his lips sought yours. His cold lips quickly turned warm against yours, his hands cold against your hips. But you didn’t mind. The kiss was everything you had ever imagined. Even more. Being held in his arms, feeling his plump lips against yours.   
“What was that for?” You asked once he came up for air.   
“Jared found your wishlist,” he started, and you groaned. “I’m glad he did. Because now I know you feel the same way. And that’s the best present I could ask for.”


	10. Slipping on Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean x Reader

“Ice skating?” Dean stared at you incredulously. “Why the hell Ice Skating?”

You could see Sam, Jack, and Cas looking at you as well, all with looks of confusion on their face. Sam still had the cup of coffee held in the fair, halfway to his face, his eyes wide.

“Why not?” You argued. “We have a day off, it’s a perfect day for it. Besides, it’s my birthday, and you promised to do whatever I wanted.

“But Ice Skating?” Sam repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone Ice Skating before.”

Jack raised his hand, a huge smile on his face. “I think Ice Skating sounds like fun!”

“But wait,” Dean continued to argue. “Do they even make skates in Moose size?”

Grumbling under his breath, Sam placed his coffee mug down, standing up. “I think it sounds like a great idea. Let’s go.”

A couple of hours later you were bundled up, staring at the ice skating rink with trepidation. It had sounded like a great idea at the time, but now that you were staring at the sleek rink, you weren’t sure if you were ready.

“Still time to chicken out,” Dean whispered as he came to stand behind you. “Sam, Jack, and Cas can skate. You and I could check out that hot chocolate shop over there instead.”

Shaking your head, you grabbed his hand, pulling him along with you. “You aren’t getting out of this that easily. We never do anything like this, and I promised myself I would try something different for my birthday.”

Sighing, he led the way to the skate rental stand where Jack already stood, waiting for the lady to find his size. You could see Sam awkwardly brushing his hair back, eyeing the lady with interest. “See any mistletoe around?”

“Why? You interested?” Dean teased, and you pushed his shoulder.

“For Sam! Look.”

Both of you watched as he tried flirting with the lady, almost blushing more than she did when their hands brushed. Stepping back, he walked away with Jack, leaving Cas there as the two of you came forward.

Dean quickly gave her both your size along with his. “Cas, do you think you could magic up some mistletoe?” You asked.

“Probably. But why?”

“You’ll see,”you whispered as your small little group finished tying the laces.

“Guys, how do we walk on these things?” Jack asked, catching himself before he fell down. Sam, surprisingly graceful with his skates on, helped Jack onto the ice, muttering quick lessons as he went. Cas followed behind, frowning as he tried to get his footing on the ice. Dean stayed with you, his hand under your elbow to support you if you needed.

Stepping on the ice, you immediately felt your feet slide out from underneath you. If it wasn’t for Dean’s fast thinking, you would have fallen on your butt. But he grabbed you, holding you close to him as he slowly moved around the rink.

“Dean, how are you doing this so easily?” You asked him, enjoying the feel of his arms around you, finally feeling a little comfortable in your skates.

“Did I ever mention that I might have played hockey once or twice,” he said, smiling down at you. “And besides, taking a girl skating is always a good December date. Usually, I have my arms around them as they get used to skating.”

“Much like now?” You asked, disappointed when he pulled away.

“Exactly. But you’re a much faster learner than most,” he said, almost seeming disappointed in the fact. “Hey, look!”

You followed his gaze, seeing Sam standing on the other side of the rink, talking to the woman from earlier. She was giggling, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Where’s Cas with the mistletoe?” You muttered, frantically glancing around.

“I don’t…,” Dean started to say. “Cas, what are you doing?”

You very carefully turned around on your shaky legs, just in time to see Cas dangling a pretty piece of mistletoe right over your head. Smiling, he shook it. “What the hell,” Dean said, his eyes twinkling as he pulled you to him. His lips barely brushed yours before you felt your feet give away underneath you. Stiffening to brace the fall, it took you a minute to realize that you had landed on something softer than ice.

“Oof,” Dean grumbled, his arms still wrapped tight around you. “You okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” you said, embarrassed.

“Honey, I have a beautiful girl laying on top of me. Of course, I’m fine. Even though I’d rather have it be my memory foam mattress instead of this cold ice.”

Blushing, you carefully stood up with Cas’ help, Dean followed suit. As the three of you started skating towards the exit, you noticed Sam pulling the girl in for a kiss. “Look, we didn’t need the mistletoe after all!”

“Sure we did,” Dean argued. “Otherwise how would I have gotten you in my arms?”


	11. Betting on Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared x Reader x Jensen (Poly)

“Alright everyone, today’s the last day of filming before the break. The faster we work, the faster you can get out of here!” The producer told everyone, clapping his hands together before no doubt heading back to his office for a cup of coffee and a nap.   
Glancing towards Jensen you raised an eyebrow, wondering if he and Jared were actually going to behave. It had been a hectic week, not only with filming, but Christmas parties and shopping as well. Not to mention all the times both Jensen and Jared found ways to distract or tease you. Making you mess up your lines, or run late to a scene. You really just wanted today to go smoothly so the three of you could take off for your little cabin in the middle of nowhere.   
“What are you looking at me for?” Jensen asked, holding his hands up as if to say he wasn’t up to anything.   
“Because I know you. And I know Jared. You two probably have something planned that is going to mess up the rest of the day,” you told him, pointing your finger his way.   
“Scouts honor,” Jared assured you, coming and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “We want to get going just as much as you.”  
You still didn’t completely believe them, but by then it was already time to get into places. Turning your smile into the concentrated stare your character always wore, you waited for the Director to yell action.  
Almost an hour later you finally had your first break. The filming had gone well so far, and you hoped that the rest of the day went smoothly as well. Taking a drink from your water bottle, you could see Jared and Jensen in the corner, whispering furiously to each other. Jensen glanced your way, raising an eyebrow before returning back to his conversation.  
“I’d be careful if I were you,” Misha whispered, coming to stand beside you. “They are definitely up to something.”  
You had to agree with him. “But how are you sure they aren’t planning something for you?”   
He shrugged, both of you watching as Jared glanced your way, licking his bottom lip. “Because neither of them look at me that way.”  
Blushing slightly as both men stared your way, you heard the Director give the one minute warning. Slowly making your way to your mark, you heard Jensen calling your name. “Y/N, can you come here please?”   
Sighing dramatically, you started to head his way, missing the way he glanced up to the short celieing above him. “Y/N, I need to talk to you for a moment,” the Director called out, and you shrugged your shoulders Dean’s way before turning in a different direction.   
The next scene took almost two hours to film. Jared messed up his lines once or twice, and you missed your mark once. It was full of monologue, and you concentrated hard to remember each and every line.  
“That’s it! A wrap for lunch,” The Director finally announced. Ready to to the catering table and take your lunch back to your trailer, you felt Jared’s hand on your shoulder. “Have lunch with me?” He suggested, giving you the trademark Sam puupy dog eye look.   
“I think that can be arranged,” you said, wrapping your arm through his. Talking about plans during the break, he guided you down the walkway, Jensen following behind. “Hey Y/N, look at this,” Jared suggested, trying to manuever into the corner of the building.   
“Jared, what are you doing?” You asked him. “We only have a half an hour until we are needed back. And I’m starving.”  
Patting his cheek, you turned and wrapped your arm through Jensen’s. “Shall we?”   
Grumbling under his breath, Jared followed behind you. Smiling victoriously, Jensen walked with you the rest of the way to the food tent. Picking up your tray, you sat down at the table, watching as Jared argued with Jensen. “Figured out what they are up to yet?” Misha asked, sitting down next to you.   
“No idea. But whatever it is, Jared’s not very happy with Jensen right now. And I really don’t want our vacation to start that way,” you admitted, watching as they both started walking towards your table.  
“I bet once you’re done with filming and on your way to that cabin everything will be back to normal,” Misha assured you as both men sat down across from you.   
“So what do you think, only three hours of filming left?” Misha asked Jensen.   
Shrugging, Jensen shoved a french fry into his mouth.   
“I sure hope so. I’m ready for a break. And some fun,” Jared said, winking your way. 

It was almost two in the afternoon when the Director paused to reset the scene. “Hey Y/N, come check your lines with me?” Jensen offered, scooting your seat closer to his.   
“Sure,” you answered, moving to sit down. Jensen had a huge smile on his face, winking towards Jared who had his arms crossed. Raising an eyebrow, you started to sit when the makeup lady grabbed your arm, pulling you off to the side. Jared’s laughter followed you, and you could see Jensen frowning.  
“What is going on with them?” Shelly, the make-up artist asked as she touched up the fake blook on your cheek.   
“I have no idea, but it’s kind of funny,” you agreed, just as the Director told you to find your marks.   
Finally it was the last scene of the day. You were standing by Misha, while Jared and Jensen both stood across from you. Delivering your last line, you breathed a sigh of relief when the Director yelled cut. “Finally!” You exclaimed, just as Misha looked up.   
“Um Y/N, look what I just found,” Misha told you, pointing towards the ceiling where Misletoe hung.   
“Is that what the two of you have been up to?” You asked Jared and Jensen, watching as they both shrugged.  
“Well, when in Rome,” you muttered, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Misha’s cheek. Patting him on the shoulder, you walked over to the two men. “Was it a bet?”  
“Yep, whoever got you to kiss them first got first dibs when we were in the cabin,” Jensen started explaining.   
“First dibs? That’s what we’re calling it?” You asked, pretending to be mad.   
“We didn’t mean anything, we promise. It was just a fun game. One that didn’t turn out as well as we figured,” Jared assured you. “Please, don’t be mad.”  
“How can I be mad at you two?” Standing in between them, you took turns, kissing Jared before turning to Jensen. “Now can we just get going?”


	12. I Saw Elvis Kissing Santa Clause

Currently nibbling your thumb, you stared at the scene in front of you. Squinting one eye, then the other, wanting everything to be perfect. “Maybe a little more to the left,” you ordered, frowning even more as it was moved. “No, never mind. I liked it better the way it was first.”  
“Y/N, is this really what we’re supposed to be doing?” Jack asked, moving the Christmas tree once again, back to where it had been. “I mean, Sam, Dean and Cas are out on a hunt. Shouldn’t we be doing research or something.”  
“Dean assured me they have it all covered,” you assured him. “And besides, it’s Christmas Eve. We haven’t had a chance to decorate the bunker at all.”   
“I still don’t totally grasp this whole Christmas thing,” Jack continued, coming to stand beside you. “Like the tree inside the house. And a drink out of eggs?”   
Chuckling, you opened the container of ornaments. “I don’t get the whole eggnog thing as well. But a Christmas tree is a must. As is cookies, presents and Christmas music. Maybe I’ll even surprise Dean with some mistletoe.”  
Cocking his head to the side, Jack stared at you. “Mistletoe?”  
“Yeah, let’s not go into that right now. How about we decorate this tree?”  
After handing him an ornament and showing him what to do, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, checking for an update from Dean. Wondering how the hunt was going.   
“It’s a shifter,” he texted. “We have its location pinned down, hopefully we’ll be back by tomorrow morning.”  
“I hope so. Jack and I are decorating,” you texted him back, setting your phone down on the table before taking another ornament out. Making sure the old antique record player was still playing Christmas music. Humming along to the music, you placed the ornament to the top of the tree.   
“I think I like Christmas music,” Jack announced. “It seems so happy and cheerful.”   
“It usually is,” you agreed. “Want to bake some cookies now?”  
“I do like cookies.”  
Letting him place the last ornament, you picked your phone up once again, seeing another message from Dean. “Damn thing is tricky! Could have just sworn I saw the Grinch!”   
Giggling, you quickly texted a reply, tucking your phone back in your pocket before finding Jack in the kitchen. “Are they done yet?” He asked, twirling a snowflake cookie cutter around his finger.  
“Nope. Guess the shifter is in the holiday spirit,” you told him, reaching up and pulling down the flour. “Turned into the Grinch. I didn’t even think that was possible.”   
“What is a Grinch?”  
“We really have our work cut out for us, don’t we?” You chuckled. “How about we’ll settle down soon with dinner and we’ll get you caught up on some of the Christmas classics.”  
It was almost an hour later the last cookie was finally frosted. Both you and Jack were covered in flour, food coloring, and frosting. You had a simple dinner planned for both of you, and the movie was ready to go. You hadn’t heard from Dean again, and you were a little worried. Pouring yourself a small glass of wine, you sat down beside Jack, pressing play.   
Finally, your phone buzzed, and you immediately picked it up. “You’ll never believe it!” Dean exclaimed in text.   
“What’s going on? I hoped you would be done by now,” you texted back while Jack giggled at the Grinch’s antics.   
Dean immediately responded. “I saw Elvis kissing Santa Claus.”  
You read the text twice, wondering if you had read it wrong. Elvis, and Santa Claus, and kissing. Not something you thought you would ever read from Dean. “Can you say that again?” You texted back.   
Almost immediately your phone started ringing, Dean’s picture flashing on your screen. “Y/N, you should have come with us on this hunt. I can’t believe what the shifter has changed into. And now there’s two of them! One changed into Elvis, like Elvis in the white jumpsuit. Another one was exactly like Santa. We came around the corner, and they were kissing! I think I’m scared for life.”   
“So I did read your text right,” you chuckled. “Did you at least get a picture? You could sell that to the tabloids for sure.”  
“I did, and I can’t wait to show it to you,” he replied. “But we did finally Gank them. Thank goodness they were no longer Elvis and Santa. Not sure I could have ganked them.”   
“But then you would be the man who killed Hitler, and the man who killed Christmas,” you teased. “Now, just hurry home to me.”   
Hanging up the phone, you told Jack the story before turning your attention back to the movie playing.   
____________________________  
You had waited up, hoping that Dean would show up before you finally fell asleep. But midnight rolled around, and no black shining Impala came down the road. No green eyed hunter to pull below the mistletoe. Snowing was falling gently to the ground, and you hoped it wouldn’t delay Dean’s arrival.   
Sleep wasn’t easy, and you found yourself awake at dawn. Slipping into some warm clothes, you stepped out into the hallway, relieved to hear voices in the library. Hastening up the stairs, you smiled at Sam and Cas before immediately jumping into Dean’s arms. Your lips sought his, his arms holding you tight.  
“What was that for?” He asked when you finally pulled away.   
You nodded up, showing him the mistletoe he was standing under. “Merry Christmas sweetheart,” he whispered, keeping you tight against him. “The place looks amazing.”   
“Thank you. Now can I please see the picture?”


	13. Little Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam x Reader

Warmth surrounded you. From the heavy flannel blanket covering you from the waist down, to the strong arm wrapped securely around your belly. Sam had his face snuggled in the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your nose. The blanket was unneeded, with Sam's long body mostly covering you, his heat radiating.  
Wanting to snuggle back into his embrace and fall asleep, you had just closed your eyes when you heard the subtle creak of the door opening.  
Slightly lifting your head, you saw Jess sneak her head around the door. Her blonde tousled hair barely reaching the handle. Her blue eyes stared up at you, checking to see if you, or her Dad were awake.  
Only 4 now, you knew she would be a beauty. It was easy to see her Mom in her, from the few pictures Sam had hidden away.   
Sure, she wasn't yours. Not biologically, but that didn’t matter. You loved her like your own.  
“Mom? Dad? Are you awake?” She whispered, coming to the side of the bed. Sam, not normally a deep sleeper, snored in response, and she giggled softly.  
“Get up here,” you told her softly, lifting your free arm up. She didnt need to be told twice, jumping up on the bed, snuggling up to you. “Why are you up so early?”  
“Its not early,” she argued, pouting her bottom lip. “Its almost eight.”  
“Your Dad and I slept in for once,” you yawned. “Any chance you want to sleep a little longer?”  
You could just make out the freckles splayed across her nose and cheeks, the golden specks in her blue eyes. “I'm not sleepy. Besides, I wanted to ask Daddy something.”  
Glancing down at Sam, you could see that wasn't going to happen. His pert mouth hanging open slightly, snoring every now and then. His hand held tight to your side, like he was afraid you were going to leave.  
“Sweetie, you might have to wait a while for that.” Glancing down, you noticed something clutched in her tiny little hand.  
“I found this,” she whispered, holding the crumpled paper up in her hand. Reaching for it, you noticed it was a faded photograph. “Is that my Mommy?”  
Her little words tugged at your heart. She had only been a month old when Jess had been killed. She had never really known her Mom, and you had come back into Sam's life six months after, being there for Sam when he needed it the most. 5 years later, you were the only Mom she had ever known.  
“Yeah sweetie, it is. You look a lot like her.”  
She stared down at the picture, running her tiny little finger across her Moms laughing face. “Daddy doesn't talk about her. Was she nice?”  
Glancing at Sam, wishing he would wake up and take over this conversation, you sighed. “Jess, I never really knew your Mom. Your Dad has talked about her to me. How she had these bright, beautiful eyes that sparkled with laughter. How she could always see the good in everything, her heart almost too big.”  
“You have that heart,” Sam muttered, sitting up as he slowly tried to wake. “Not only do you have her name, but you look like her. You’re just as sweet, just as kind. A beautiful soul.”  
Reaching over you, he plucked Jess from your arms, cuddling her against his chest. “I'm sorry I haven't talked about her. You hadn't asked before, and I just never thought…”  
Leaning over, you pressed your lips to his cheek before sliding down out of bed. A cup of coffee would be needed after this conversation, giving Sam some alone time with his daughter.  
Waiting for the coffee to percolate, you placed your hand gently on your swollen belly. Seven months along, and you were more than ready for your son to be born. Jess was so excited, and you had a feeling your pregnancy was part of the reason for the conversation this morning.   
Lost in thought, you didnt realize that Sam had joined you in the kitchen until his arms were wrapped around you. “I'm sorry about that,” he whispered, his mouth brushing against your neck.  
“What for?” You asked, leaning back into his embrace.   
Sighing he stepped back, turning you around to face him. “For that conversation. It can't be easy for you. Hearing about my relationship with Jess.”  
“It doesn't matter what I think,” you argued. “Jess has a right to know about her Mom. She needs to know, and there will be more conversations. Its only natural after her Mom died when she was so young.”  
You didnt realize your hand was still pressed possesively against your belly. Your unspoken fear coming through in the gesture. “Oh Y/N,” he sighed, pulling you into his arms. “I never even imagined...but I should have. With this life, of course its…”  
Tears welled up in your eyes. “I just don't want anything to happen to either of us. I dont want Jess to go through that again. And I dont want it to happen to Bobby either.”  
“Bobby huh?” Sam smiled. “You've decide on that name then?”  
“Yes. Its only fitting,” you said. “But Sam,”  
“Dont let this fear take control. We will be around for both of our children. I promise. Even if I have to storm through heaven or hell, we will be here for them as they grow up.”  
“I sure hope you're right. Because my happy place is with this little family we've made. And as much as I wish Jess knew her Mom, I'm grateful that little girl is in my life.”  
“Just her?” Sam teased, his eyes twinkly.  
“I can think of someone else too,” you replied, letting him pull you in for a long, languid kiss.


	14. Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean x Reader  
> Angst

Blood dripped down the solid steel of the machete. It hissed as it landed on the frozen floor, still warm. The sight of the dead bodies, the heads severed from the bodies would have grossed most people out. But to you, it was the sight of a job well done. It was a reminder that people were a little safer because of you.  
“Wipe that machete off. I want to be home before midnight tonight,” Dean grumbled, glaring your way as he stumbled to the door.   
Wondering why he was such a grouch, you followed him outside. “Dean, don’t you think that went well?” You asked. “Wait, aren’t we going to burn the place down or something?”   
He glared at you over the top of the Impala. “That type of fire will draw all sorts of attention that we don’t need. This place is deserted. Those bodies will rot long before anyone comes out here.”  
“Oh,” you whispered. “I guess you’re right.”  
Ignoring the grime covering your flannel and jeans, you slid into the Impala, staying quiet for a moment. But the excitement of your first hunt couldn’t be contained, and you a giggle escaped your lips. “Dean, I did it! I survived my first hunt.”  
He only grunted in response, but you kept going, staring out at the snow-covered fields that were blurring by. “I wasn’t sure I would be strong enough to swing the machete, let alone slice a head clean off and I did it! Multiple times.”  
Dean grunted again, reaching down to turn on the radio. But the sound of Lynrd Skynrd coming through the speakers wasn’t going to be enough to rain on your parade. “I really thought that one vamp was going to since his teeth into me. The tall, hunky one. He reminded me of Eric from True Blood. Thank goodness you stepped in and took care of him for me.”  
“Of course I stepped in. He was looking at you like a prime rib,” Dean grumbled, his hand tight on the steering wheel.   
“I don’t ever want to know what those teeth feel like ripping into my skin,” you shuddered. “Too bad we didn’t get there in time to save those three poor people. But at least no one else will get hurt by them. Or turned.”  
Dean grunted in agreement, and you turned silent for a moment, watching as the snow started falling down. “I knew my first hunt would be scary. But seeing that first Vampire rushing towards me? I about wet myself.”  
“Did you?” Dean asked, swerving in the road. “Because if you did we’re stopping now, and…,”  
“I didn’t!” You exclaimed, bright red. “I said almost.”  
“Good, he grumbled, still in that bad mood.  
“But when I started swinging that machete, my nerves evaporated. I started killing them, and while the feeling of the warm blood hitting me grossed me out, I just sort of...I don’t know. It felt almost….natural. You know?”  
“I get it,” Dean answered, leaning towards the window as he continued down the highway.  
“I really wasn’t sure I’d like the actual hunting. I know both you and Sam warned me that there is nothing to get you ready for an actual hunt. I was worried that one hunt and I would be done. But knowing that you’re doing good, that you might actually be saving the world? It’s kind of addicting.”   
Stopping to take a breath, you liked the feeling rushing through you. Excitement, leftover adrenaline. A feeling that you had finally found where you belonged. It was a heady feeling, one that you wanted to hold on to. Ready to tell Dean your thoughts, you were stopped when the Impala swerved to the side, slipping on the snow piled on the shoulder.  
“Dean, pay attention!” You exclaimed, turning your attention away from the snow just in time to see Dean slump over the steering wheel. “DEAN!” You screamed, finally pulling away from the oblivion brought on by your success. Noticing the blood darkening Dean’s flannel shirt, the clamminess of his forehead. “Damn it, why didn’t you say anything?”  
“You were so happy about the hunt,” he grunted, groaning in pain as you tried to stop the bleeding. Dean pulled away from the steering wheel, trying to gather himself. The movement caught his wound, and he cried out, jerking the steering wheel. “Pull over!” You ordered, the car sliding in the slush.   
Dean slid her foot off the gas, smiling over at you, blood staining his teeth before his eyes rolled back in his head. You were caught between saving Dean or saving the car. Turning to the steering wheel, you glanced out the windshield just as the large tree trunk came into view, the sound of metal crunching the last thing you heard.


	15. Stolen Tequila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam x Reader

Standing at the window, you watched as the rain poured down in sheets. Already puddles formed on every available surface, cars splashing it up as they sped past. Thunder shook the thin glass, and you took a step back as lightning flashed in the park across from you.

“This is quite the storm,” you muttered, turning back into the room. Sam was lounging on the bed, his laptop closed and laying forgotten on his lap. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, and for a moment you wondered if he was asleep.

“I think we’ll be stuck here for a while,” he agreed, slowly opening one eye. “Too bad the TV is broken.”

Sitting down on the bed across from him, you frowned. “We could always pull up a movie on your laptop?”

He shook his head, tossing the laptop to the side. “Yeah, the wifi stopped working an hour ago. Think the lightning has messed with it.”

“So we’re stuck in this horrible room with no TV. No wifi. I didn’t bring a book, and I don’t think you did either.”

“Left mine in the Impala,” Sam grumbled. “And there is no way Dean is bringing the Impala back just to bring us our books.”

Huffing, you threw your legs onto the bed, leaning back. “So we have the craziest rainfall outside. We don’t have TV, wifi or anything else to keep us occupied except to sit and stare at these ugly stained, cerulean walls.”

“Did you just say cerulean?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t most normal people just say blue?”

Shrugging, you glanced over at the peeling blue wall, knowing at one time it had been beautiful. But time and neglect had turned the vibrant blue into spots of muck almost black in some spots. “Do you have any ideas?” You asked him, wondering if you should just go soak in the bathtub for a while. But you had taken a shower earlier that morning, and you weren’t sure you wanted to be around that dirty black grout any more than you had to.

“I did take this from Dean,” Sam announced, standing up and heading to his bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a large bottle of ambered colored alcohol. “From his own personal stash of booze.”

“Tequila? Dean drinks Tequila?” You asked, standing up and taking the bottle from his hands. It was surprisingly a good brand, not one of the cheap kind that Dean usually bought. Glancing around, you found the plastic cups off to the side, and you quickly poured each of you a couple of fingers.

“To the rainstorm. And Dean for running off on us so he could have a night with...what’s her name again?”

“Stacia,” Sam answered, taking one cup from you, he clinked it against yours before downing it in one gulp. “Drink up.”

Hours later, you were staring at the empty bottle of tequila, the rain still pounding down outside. Your head felt fuzzy, your body heavy and awkward. You were currently laying on the bed, your feet propped on the headboard. Sam had his head resting on your belly, holding the bottle in the air so you could both see the last tiny drop inside. “Why didn’t ya steal two?” You slurred, closing your eyes for a moment, the steadily pouring rain outside lulling you.

“I didn’ think we’d be stuck inside while a biblical storm reigned outside,” he muttered, making you wonder if he was as drunk as you were.

“You should go buy another bottle,” you insisted, pushing on his shoulder. Only grunting, he turned on his side, his nose nestled against the warm flannel shirt you wore. You knew that sober you would be completely awkward about this. But drunk you? She enjoyed having Sam so close.

Reaching down, you ran your fingers through his hair, amazed that he let you. It was soft and silky and…, “Sam, where do you get your conditioner?”

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes closed, looking like a cat that was getting petted.

Suddenly deciding to go get more tequila, you let go of Sam’s hair and stood up. Sam’s head fell to the mattress with a thud, and he turned to watch as you slipped your shoes on. “Where ya going?”

“To the liq...the liq..to get drinks,” you stuttered, smiling at him before you went to open the door.

“Y/N it’s raining!” He exclaimed like you didn’t already know that.

“I know,” you answered, stepping out into the warm summer rain, shutting the door behind you. Missing the fact that you didn’t have keys, or a wallet, or anything. Forgetting about the liquor store, you raised your head to the sky, already soaking wet in the short time you had been outside.

Puddles had formed everywhere, and you skipped out to the parking lot, jumping into the deepest one you could find. Giggling, you spun around as lightning flashed down.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Sam asked you, following you outside, his hair already plastered to his head.

Spinning to face him, you raised your arms up. “What does it look like? I’m dancing in the rain!”

“That’s better than singing,” he teased. “You have a horrible singing voice.”

Pouting, you shook your head. “I do not.”

“Do too,” he argued. “Now get back inside before you get hit by lightning.”

“Make me,” you insisted childishly. Sam came forward, and you were about ready to race past him, when he reached out, grasping you by the waist and pulling you tight against him. Tilting your head up, you could see he was staring down at you.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, the alcohol bolstering your courage.

Shaking his head, his wet hair smacked against his cheek. “No, you’re drunk.”

“Fine,” you muttered. Standing up on your tiptoes, you brushed your lips against his. Sam stood still for a moment before wrapping his arms tighter around you, deepening the kiss. Suddenly the world spun as he picked you up in his arms. Carrying you through the puddles, he stepped back into the hotel room, dropping you on the bed.

“Strip,” he ordered.

“Oooh,” you said, moving to stand up, but he had already turned around to grab a towel from the rack. Throwing your wet shirt and pants his way, you caught the towel he handed you. “Dry off, cool off, and we can talk about this in the morning?”

“Talk about what?”

“That kiss, and….other things,” he promised as you slid under the covers. Yawning, you closed your eyes, immediately falling into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

The sun slipped through the blinds, waking you up. Grumbling, you turned to the side, only to find an arm holding you in place, Taking a moment to unfog your brain, you slowly looked up to see a sleeping Sam holding you tight. Quickly glancing down, you gasped as you realized you were naked. “What…,” you whispered, wracking your mind about the events of last night. Trying to remember exactly what had happened. You remember the rain, and tequila and…

“Morning,” Sam whispered against your neck, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Sam, what happened?” You asked, grabbing the sheet and pulling it around you as you scrambled off the bed. “Last night...did we…?”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he patted the bed that you had just left. “Come back to bed and we can talk.”

“No, I can’t. Not until...not until I know,” you whispered.

“Y/N, we didn’t do anything. You were drunk, and I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Wrinkling your nose, you stared at the unused bed beside yours. “Then why are you in my bed?”

“Actually this is my bed. Your bed was soaking wet, so we shared. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” you whispered, somewhat disappointed.

Reaching over, he grasped your hand. “But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Y/N, that kiss last night. It was amazing, and I was wondering if…,”

“If what?”

“Well, if you wanted to do that. And maybe more,” he stuttered, turning slightly red. “I just know how hard the hunting life is, and I thought maybe we could help each other out.”

“Like friends with benefits?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You know what? Forget I said anything. It’s stupid.”

“But what if I can’t just be friends with benefits? What if I want more?”

He shrugged. “We can deal with that if, and when it happens.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you dropped your sheet to the ground, nervously awaiting Sam’s response. Astonishment shown in his eyes before he was standing up, pulling you into his arms.


	16. Here For You

You were miserable. That’s all there was to it. You hadn’t felt this bad, even when the werwolf had slashed open your arm. Or when that ghoul had started draining your blood. None of that compared to the agony your body was feeling.  
Your ears were plugged, your head felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton. Your entire body ached, and even with three blankets on top of you, you were cold. A trashcan was already full fo tissues, the end of your nose raw and red.   
“Y/N, did you want to…,” Sam’s voice rumbled as he opened your door. “Are you feeling okay?”   
“No,” you grumbled. Even the one word was too much for your sore throat. Snuggling deeper under the blankets, you wished sleep would just come and take you away.   
Sam came over to your bed, resting his hand on your forehead. “Y/N, you’re burning up. How long have you been like this?”   
His hand felt nice against your skin and you leaned into the contact. “Since last night.”  
Sighing he pulled the blankets better around you, glancing over at your empty nightstand. “Have you taken anything for it?”  
Shaking your head, you groaned as it set off a whole new series of aches. Running a hand through his hair, he lightly squeezed your hand. “I’ll be back. Try to get some sleep.”

It was almost an hour later when he reappeared. You had managed to get a moment or two of sleep, but not enough for your body to start recuperating. He came quietly into your room, setting the plastic bag down on your nightstand. “I wasn’t sure what you would need, so I got a little bit of everything.”  
Reaching into the bag, he pulled out different bottles of medicine, plus tissues, cough drops and gatorade. Helping you to sit up, he poured the liquid medicine for you, and you gladly accepted it, hoping it would finally make you feel a little bit better.   
Sam stood awkwardly by your side for a moment, his hands in his pockets as he tried to decide what to do. “Do you…, I guess just call me if you need anything.”  
Turning to leave, your pitiful, hoarse cry stopped him. “Stay. Please.”   
“But Y/N, you need to sleep. To recuperate and I don’t want to get in the way of that,” he argued, but you reached out, trying to grasp his hand. “Fine, but only until you fall asleep.”  
You could feel the medicine already starting to take away some of your aches and pains, but you still felt horrible. Sam sat down on the other side of your bed, and you rolled over, leaning into his touch. “I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. You were surprised at his words, after all, you were really only friends. Close friends who killed monsters, but still.   
Chalking his words up to your fever brain, you snuggled deeper into his warm flannel covered chest, closing your eyes. Sam’s arm was wrapped around you, brushing the hair back from your face. With the soothing rhythm of his touch, you finally felt yourself drifitng off to sleep. 

Your room was dark when you finally woke back. You were laying on your side, curled under a mountain of blankets. Your head was no longer aching, and you could move without aching. “Sam?” you called out, wondering if he had stayed with you the whole time.   
But you were alone, which disappointed you. Feeling grimy, you moved to slide off the bed, your legs like jello. Almost falling to the floor just as your door opened and Sam stepped inside. “Woah, what are you doing out of bed?”  
“I feel disgusting,” you muttered, your throat still sore, your voice hardly even there.   
He reached down, easily picking you up in his arms. “You’re sick. You’re supposed to feel grimy, but you should stay in bed. I don’t want a relapse.”   
“I want to at least wash my face and brush my hair,” you argued before a coughing fit racked your body. “And brush my teeth.”  
Sighing, Sam carried you down the hallway to the large bathroom. You didn’t visit it very often, preferring the small one off the side of your room. But it was large, with multiple shower heads and a large mirror. Sitting you down on one of the chairs, Sam pushed it close to the large sink. Taking a washcloth in his large, callused hand, he rubbed it full of soapy, warm water. Crouching down, he carefully washed your face, his touch surprisingly gentle for a hunter.   
As he went to place the washcloth back, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your face was pale, your lips chapped and your nose red. Your hair almost stood on end, so many knots that you were scared to brush it.  
“I look horrible,” you muttered, your throat aching with every word.   
“You look sick. There is a difference,” Sam argued.  
You shook your head, disagreeing with him. Sure, you looked sick with the dark circles under your eyes and the pale skin. But you could also look horrible with your hair looking more like a bird’s nest.   
“If I brush your hair will it make you feel better?” He gave in to your pleading look. He left the bathroom, but was only gone for a couple of minutes. Returning with your brush, he came up behind you. “Let me know if I pull too hard.”  
His touch was gentle, and you hardly felt the brush as he slid it through your hair. Still wishing you could have gotten a shower, you leaned back. “Your hair is so beautiful,” he whispered, his free hand following the brush as he worked through the tangles. “I’ve always been worried you were going to cut it because of our job.”  
“Thank goodness no monster has ever really grabbed a hold of it,” you managed to get out. “But I have thought of cutting it.”  
“Don’t,” he insisted. “Leave it in a ponytail. Braids, anything. It’s just beautiful.”  
Closing your eyes, you let him continue, not even noticing when he put the brush down and began braiding your hair. “Let’s get you back to bed,” he said softly about five minutes later. Moving to stand up, Sam quickly picked you up once again, carrying you down the hallway. Somehow while he had been gone your room had been tidied, new medicine ready for you to take on the nightstand.   
“I made Dean help,” Sam explained. “He says get feeling better soon otherwise he’s going to the cafe by himself.”  
“But I love their milkshakes,” you mumbled, taking the medicine and downing it without a complaint. Letting Sam pull the covers up, you immediately reached for him. Smiling softly, he sat back down on the other side of the bed. “Stay. Please.”   
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Ever.”


	17. No longer Soft and Cuddly

The car sat idling underneath you, the steering wheel gripped tight in your hand. You stared off at the brick wall in front of you, your eyes unblinking. You were tired, more than just tired. You were weary. Completely exhausted from the past couple of weeks.  
You had needed time away. From the bunker, and from all the people who had made it their home as well. Volunteering to go on the errand run, needing to get away from all the noise and the constant pitying looks.   
Your body working almost robotically, you reached over, turning the ignition off. Still staring at the brick wall, sighing as you knew you had to keep moving on. Keeping pushing forward even though you wanted nothing more than to curl up on your bed, pretend as if nothing had happened.   
Pushing open the car door, you stepped out, the note crinkling in your pocket. You shivered as the breeze cut through your light sweatshirt, lifting your hair from your nape. The locally owned grocery store was just around the corner, right past the shop that had sat empty for as long as you could remember.  
With your hands tucked in your pockets, you stopped in front of the store, ready to peer into the cobwebbed covered glass, to see the dust covered shelves and antiques stacked in the corner. You always wondered about that store. How it had sat empty for so long in this bustling part of town. Wondering who had owned the place and what had happened. But the grime you had been expecting was gone. The windows were shiny and clean, freshly painted with the words. “Pounce N’ Play Pet Store.”   
You could see the walls had been freshly painted, a bright cheery yellow. The shelves had been dusted, full of pet treats and items that any pet owner would need. Rounded cages were in the middle, holding kittens and puppies, all so adorable and cute.   
Without even realizing what you were doing, you had already stepped inside, the chirping of birds announcing your entrance. “Good morning!” A cheery voice exclaimed. An old lady was standing at the counter, wearing a pink sweatshirt, embellished with kittens playing with yarn. “Welcome to Pounce N’Play. You’re welcome to cuddle with any of the animals.”  
A black and white little puppy yipped right next to you, standing up on the plastic side, wagging its tail. As you knelt down next to the cage, reaching inside to pet the puppy, you realized this is what you needed. Not the silence. Not being away from the bunker. You needed a sense of normalcy. And nothing was more normal than petting some soft and cuddly animals.   
The other puppies in the cage came over, all pawing and falling over each in other in their haste to get your attention. Reaching down, you picked up one, cuddling it tight to your chest. A deep sigh escaped you as you finally started to relax.   
The older lady smiled over at you, sitting down at the desk, turning her attention to the book in front of her. Smiling for the first time in weeks, you turned your attention to the wiggling puppy, giggling as it licked your face.  
You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You had long since returned the black and white puppy to its cage, turning your attention to the kittens. Sitting on the floor, you had one kitten in your arms while another three played in your lap. You were happy, feeling more light-hearted than you had in a long time.  
“Why don’t you take some home?” The old lady asked, looking up from her book. “They could all use a good home, and I think yours would be great.”  
Your smile faded away for a moment. “I can’t. I’m not home long enough, and I…,”  
She waved the rest of your comment away. “I understand dearie. And you’re welcome here anytime you need cuddles. I just need something from the back. You keep enjoying yourself.”  
She vanished through the back, and you snuggled with the sleek black kitten who had fallen asleep in your arms. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it. Sure, you knew that Sam was probably wondering where you were, but you just needed a couple more minutes. Just a little more normalcy before you returned to the hell hole that had become your life.   
Sighing, you put the rest of the kittens away, placing a soft kiss on the head of the kitten, planning on getting on with your day when you heard a bang in the back of the building.  
“Ma’am, are you okay?” You asked, taking a step towards the back when she came out. Her eyes were wide, her entire body stiff, and you immediately knew why.  
“Well, hello there Y/N,” Dean said, or should you say Michael. He was dressed as you had last seen him, in that old fashioned suit, the cap settled on his slick down hair. His hand was wrapped tight around the woman's neck, his familiar green eyes so cold and distant. So unlike your Dean.   
“Michael,” you whispered, unconsciously taking a step back. You hadn’t expected to see him. Not so soon after he disappeared, breaking your heart.   
With barely a glance at the woman, he snapped her neck, tossing her to the side. “I don’t understand. What are you doing here, messing with these little...things.”  
“They calmed me,” you admitted. “But Michael…,”  
“Tsk, tsk,” he admonished you. “I’m not here to listen to you talk. I’ve come to give you a choice.”   
You wanted to turn and run. To get away from the Angel who had taken Dean away from you. But you were frozen to the spot, unable to move. “Wh...what choice?”   
He stepped closer to you, staring down at the puppies in wonder. “As I see it, you have two choices. You can do the smart thing, and join with me. Let me make you stronger, better.   
“And if I say no?”  
Michael tilted his head, studying you for a moment before he snapped his fingers. Instantly all of the animals in the store, including the birds and fish stopped making sounds. They stopped moving. “No,” you whispered, glancing up at Michael in horror.   
“They’re just animals,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow at the pain you were feeling for something so small. “Just think what will happen if you say no.”   
Taking a deep breath, you stood up tall, knowing this would probably be the last time you would ever see Dean. Wishing you could tell him how much you loved him. “No.”   
Dean’s beautiful green eyes glowed blue, his lip raised in a snarl. “I really wish you would have chosen different. We could have been powerful together. Instead, you will lie with the...what’s the phrase? Lie with the fishes.”   
Before you could race out of the room Michael snapped his fingers, and the most tremendous pain you had ever felt slammed through your body. The last thing you saw was Michael’s glowing blue eyes fade back into the concerned green, his mouth opening in shock. “Y/N? No!”


	18. No Days Off

“I can’t believe you got called in,” my buddy Rob muttered as I plopped down on the couch beside him. “Wasn’t tonight your first night off in what...ten days?”  
Running my hand through my hair, I nodded. “Nine, actually. But Steve came down with the flu, so date night with Y/N was thrown out the window. I won’t have another day off for almost five days.”   
Rob patted my shoulder before he stood up. “I’m sorry man. If I had a woman such as Y/N, I’d want to have as many nights off as possible.”   
“She is something,” I agreed, leaning back against the couch. It was a full crew on hand tonight. Tyrel and Lane were playing air hockey in the corner while Harvey lifted weights near the window. Rebecca, the only female working tonight was sitting at the table, a book opened in front of her. Jim and James were the other two in for the night, no doubt getting food from the kitchen.   
I was hoping that tonight would be a quiet night. I was exhausted from working nine days in a row, and I wanted nothing more than to head home and have a peaceful night in with my fiance. Maybe order in pizza, watch some senseless TV. Spend some time with her in my arms. It feels like I hadn’t spent much time with her lately, and while she didn’t complain, I knew…  
The bell blasted me from my thoughts, everyone’s attention was immediately drawn to it. It was like a well oiled machine, as everyone jumped to action. Books were left behind, the air hockey game unifinished as we all raced to the locker room. We were already in our firemen pants and t-shirts, so it was just a quick grab of our uniforms, throwing them on as we headed to the garage. Orders were thrown about as we climbed into the truck.   
Not much information was known about this fire. It was a house fire. That’s all we knew. “So much for a quiet night,” I muttered as Rob settled in next to me.   
“Maybe it’s gonna be a quick stove fire and we can talk talk Jim into letting you go early.”   
“Hey!” Tyrel exclaimed from across the cab. “He’s not the only one to have someone to go home to.”   
Lane rolled his eyes. “You’ve been married ot your wife for what? Ten years now? Jared’s girl is hot and they’re still in that...you know.”   
I had been listening with a smile on my face, but as I glanced out the window, I suddenly realized how familiar the landscape was. We were heading straight into my neighboorhood.  
Rob noticed how quiet I had gotten, and he glanced out the window as well. “Hey wait. Isn’t this your neighborhood Jared?”  
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. The sirens were blaring above us as the driver raced through the suburban streets. My neighbor’s stared out of their windows as we headed down a familiar path. “It can’t be,” I whispered, telling myself it was just a crazy coincidence. That we would be driving past my house any moment and Y/N would be peering out the window, wondering if I was in the truck.   
“Don’t worry, it’s probably a street or two over,” Lane tried consoling me. I hated this feeling as I watched familiar houses fly by. The fear and dread settling low in my belly, turning my lunch to lead. The lump in my throat hadn’t gone away, my mouth dry as my heart pumped furiously. Closing my eyes I tried to take a deep breath, to calm myself down. I couldn’t feel like this. Not when I was seconds away from battling a scorching blaze.  
But when I opened my eyes once more, it was to the horrifying sight of the truck slowing to a stop right in front of my house.  
Smoke was billowing out of the top floor, flames licking at the curtains covering the windows. It hadn’t spread to the first floor as far as I could see. Neighbors, people that I had barbeques with, stood off to the side, staring in horror as my life burnt in front of my eyes. “Y/N,” I whispered, jumping out before anyone else. Rob was right behind me, grabbing my shoulder and stopping me from rushing in there.   
“Jared, think. We don’t know if she’s still in there. I know you’re worried, but we need to remember our training.”   
With my jaw clenched, I stared straight ahead, fighting my impulse to just run inside. I needed to know she was okay. I glanced at the people standing in our neighbor’s yard, hoping that I would see her there. My heart shattered when her beautiful face didn’t stare back at me.  
“Jared!” Jim snapped at me. “I know this is your house. Are you going to follow protocol or do I have to keep you back?”  
“I’ll do whatever you need. But I need to be in there,” I insisted, struggling into my gear as fast as I could. “I can’t stand by and watch.”   
Jim frowned at me but said no more. Pulling my helmet over my head, I forced myself to listen to the directions, knowing every second might be too late. But as soon as our bedroom window exploded, flames bursting out, I lost all sense of reason.  
“Jared!” Jim called out as I ran past everyone, throwing open the door and rushing into the foyer. The bottom floor smelled of smoke, fire coming from towards the back. “Y/N!” I screamed, my voice a little muffled by my helmet. This feeling in the pit of my stomach had me heading straight up the stairs, completely bypassing the rest of the house.  
The fire roared loudly upstairs, the heat blasting me even through my suit. The fire was still situated mainly to the back of the house and the right where our bedroom was. “Y/N!” I screamed again.  
I could see the back roof had already collapsed, some of the ceiling laying on the ground. What was underneath almost brought me to my knees. I could see Y/N’s hand laying limp on the floor, half of her body covered by a singed timber. “Y/N!” I screamed, dropping to my knees, crawling towards her.   
In haste I took off my thick, protective glove, quickly checking for a pulse. The fire ranged in front of me, close enough I could feel the heat swarming around us. I needed to get her out of here fast.   
Her pulse was weak, but still there, and if I had time I would have let out a sigh of relief. Tugging on her hand, I tried to pull him from the pile of rubbage. She slid a little way, my heart breaking at the bruises and dirt covering her beautiful skin. “Y/N, hang with me, sweetheart. I’ll get you out of here, I promise.”  
Standing back up, surrounded by the smoke, I made sure my oxygen was working. I pushed at the wood holding her down, just as Rob came by my side. “Help me!”   
With both of us lifting, we were able to push the heavy wood away from her limp body. Her leg was angled wrong, no doubt broke in the fall. Leaning down I picked her up, holding her tight. “We’ve got to go!” Rob yelled, just as the fire burst through the door. Rich led the way, the stairs starting to smoke.   
“This house is going to go!” I heard one of the other firemen yell as I raced down the stairs as fast as I was able to with her in my arms.   
The bottom floor was almost completely engulfed. Taking my oxygen mask off, I placed it over Y/N’s mouth, her dark lashes fluttering against her skin. Holding my breath, the smoke almost unbearable, I pushed ahead, running through the front door just as the house groaned. As I came to the street, the house started to crumble in on itself, the work of other firemen too little, too late.   
Carefully setting her down next to the firetruck, I took deep gasping breaths of clean air just as the ambulance rounded the corner.   
“How is she?” Rob asked, kneeling down next to her.  
“She’s battered, and her legs broken. I’m not sure how much damage is inside her body,” I muttered, brushing the hair back from her face.   
She leaned against my touch, her eyes fluttering open. “J...Jar?” She coughed.   
“Hey, I’m here,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”   
Just then an EMT came around the side of the truck, a cart being rolled behind him. I stayed by her side as they looked her over, standing back slightly when they moved to pick her up. “I think she’ll be okay,” Ed, the EMT assured me. “Of course they’ll run the normal tests, and she’ll be in the hospital for a day or two. But because of you, she’ll be fine.”   
I watched her being rolled away, torn between the love of my life and my sworn duty. “Go,” Jim said from behind me. “We have this covered.”   
I didn’t need to be told twice. Tugging off my safety gear, I climbed into the ambulance. The doors shut and I took a deep breath. “Jared,” Y/N struggled to say, the smoke making her voice hoarse. Reaching over, she grasped my hand, and I soothingly rubbed my thumb across her skin.   
“Don’t worry, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”


	19. The Sound of Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean x Reader

Parking your beat up sedan in front of the bunker, you stared in dismay at the load of groceries in the back seat. You had volunteered to go shopping, but you weren’t exactly prepared to carry all of them back down the stairs and into the kitchen.   
With a sigh, you picked up as much as you could, hoping you could talk Sam and Dean into getting the rest. Or maybe Cas was here, and he could snap his fingers and bring them down for you. Pushing on the heavy iron door, you stepped inside, immediately noticing something was wrong.  
Quietly you placed the bags down next to the doorframe, standing up but making sure you were still in the shadows. The bunker was quiet, completely silent. No sound of Sam tapping away at his laptop, or Dean muttering as he flipped through the pages of another ancient book.   
Jack was even quiet, but that didn’t bother you as much. He could have been in his room. It was the other silence that scared you the most. No humming from the machines that always ran. They were eerily quiet, somehow shut down in this giant bunker. The lights were down as well, no gentle buzzing that had become the norm.  
Although nothing seemed out of place, the quiet had you on edge. It was something that never happened in the bunker, even if it was just you. Something was wrong, and you were terrified to see more.   
Your gun was tucked into your jeans, and you slipped it into your hand, quietly walking down the staircase. The library was untouched, from what you could see in the darkness. Dean’s bag sat untouched on the map table, and you reached inside, pulling out one of his spare flashlights. With your heart beating furiously, you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen, staying off to the side in case the threat was still around. Rounding the corner, you noticed Sam slumped at the table, a cup of coffee at his elbow, his laptop pushed to the side.  
“Thank goodness, Sam! I was beginning to worry!” You exclaimed, dropping your hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t move, you shook it slightly, your heart dropping to your stomach. “Sam?”  
His head rolled forward, almost hitting the table, his hazel eyes glassy and unblinking towards you. Stifling back a cry, you covered your mouth. With a trembling hand, you checked for a pulse, tears sliding down your cheek when none was found. “No, God no!”   
With the flashlight, you scanned the room, but nothing seemed out of place. It was still so quiet, but the dishes were still stacked in the sink, the pie you had made earlier that day cooling by the stove. Nothing, not a single piece of furniture was out of place.  
You were scared. More than you had ever been in your life. You wanted to find Dean, as soon as possible. Maybe he was fighting whatever had caused Sam to be...you couldn’t even say the word.   
Back down the hallway, you went, your flashlight bouncing off the cold tiles. You kept trying to take deep breaths. Trying to calm yourself down, even though you wanted to stop and sink to your knees. Sam was gone, and whatever had done it could still be in here. It could have…  
Shaking your head, you stopped in front of Jack’s door. It was partially open, and you quietly pushed it open the rest of the way.  
Jack was laying on his stomach, a book opened in front of him. Sweeping the light in, you couldn’t contain the tremor of fear that passed through you when Jack didn’t budge. “Jack? Are you okay?”   
Your chest hurt as you slowly made your way forward. Jack stayed still, much as if he was sleeping. But his blue eyes stared blankly your way, his entire body stiff. “No, not you too,” you cried, crumbling to the bed beside him. As with Sam, there were no outward marks, nothing to show why he should be...dead.  
“This can’t be happening,” you whispered, your breaths coming shallow and fast. You were on the verge of a panic attack, and you couldn’t do that. Not now. Not when Dean was still missing, and the monster capable of this was somewhere. Tilting your head back, your throat salty with tears, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep the attack at bay.   
You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you finally forced yourself to move. To leave Jack laying peacefully on his bed. Down the hallway, you went with trepidation, towards the bedroom you shared with Dean. Scared to see what you would find in there. Knowing if it was Dean, you might not be able to handle it.  
“Please no,” you pleaded to yourself, pushing the door open. Shining your flashlight around, it was easy to see the room was empty. No sign of Dean, or the Monster. It could be a good sign, that Dean had somehow made it out safely. Giving you a slight amount  
With no Dean in the bedroom, you continued on, down to the garage. Walking past the dungeon, whose door was open, the books in there strewn everywhere. The only sign of a struggle so far. The room was empty, so you continued on, to the slightly open garage door at the end of the hallway.   
As soon as you stepped into Dean’s favorite room, your whole world came tumbling down around you. Dean was sitting awkwardly in front of the Impala, it’s hood still up. His head rolled backward, his green eyes staring blankly above you. In his hand, he was holding his cell phone, the screen black. “No, not you. Dean, please!” You screamed, forgetting that whoever had done this might be around. Dropping to your knees beside him, you took his face in your hands. His skin was still warm, and if it wasn’t for his glassy eyes, you would have thought he was sleeping. Still, you check for a pulse, your last hope crumbling like your heart when none was to be found. “No,” you cried, tears pouring down your cheeks, pulling Dean’s head against you, rocking slightly back on your heels.   
“I see you’ve found the presents I left you,” a woman spoke from behind you.   
Your vision blurred with tears, you laid Dean back against the bumper of the Impala. Turning around, you came face to face with the woman in question. Dressed all in black, she had graying hair, and scars all over her face. She had a leather-bound book in one hand, a small satchel in the other. “How dare you!” You spat. The gun in your hand was useless against a witch. And that’s what she was. One that had run on a hunt not so long ago. One of those loose ends you had wanted to tie up before it came back to bite you in the butt. But it was too late now. Your whole world was gone.   
“Those three men?” She chuckled. “It was so easy. They thought I was you. I slipped a little medicine in their hands. No pain before Death. I figured it was rather kind of me. Especially since you killed my entire coven!”   
“You were killing people!” You argued. “You brought their death upon yourself.”   
“I can say the same thing for you,” she insisted. “You let me go. If you hadn’t, these handsome men would still be alive.”   
Growling, you rushed forward, only to be stopped by a snap of her fingers. “I was going to let you live. I figured it was fitting. But I see now that it won’t be a good idea.”   
Still frozen in your spot, you could only watch as she strode forward. Grasping you by the elbows, she steered you back by Dean before slipping the satchel in your hand. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she promised before vanishing from the room.  
You could feel the effects of the spell almost immediately. Your entire body grew heavy until you could no longer stand. Falling down, you crawled until you were leaning against Dean. Your breaths were shallow, each one harder than the last. Tears slipped down your cheek as you took Dean’s hand in your own. Pressing a kiss to the freckled skin, you closed your eyes, seeing Dean’s smiling face before you slid away from this world.


	20. Shattered Glass

It was your roommates night to have friends over. For what was probably the fifth time this week. It was getting annoying, especially since you hated her friends, but you didn’t dare complain. It was hard enough to find a place to rent in this area of town. Let alone one you could afford.   
You left them the rest of the apartment, taking a slice of pizza and a bottle of beer to your room. Turning your TV on to Netflix, you closed the blinds of your window, getting ready for another sleepless night as Kaycee partied with her friends.   
As they cheered and laughed as loud as possible, you slipped out of your jeans and blouse, switching into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Your hair went up in a messy bun, and you relaxed on your bed with a sigh.   
With a mouthful of pizza, you reached for the remote, mumbling incoherently when you realized it was still on your dresser.   
Sighing, you hooked one leg over your bed, getting ready to stand up and get it when you realized everything was suddenly silent.   
“Kaycee?” You called out, listening for her answer. But there was no TV blaring, no people yelling at each other, or laughing at their stupid antics. Kaycee’s high pitched voice wasn’t fighting for control, which it had been not even five minutes ago.   
Your toes connected with the cold wooden floor, and for a minute you considered staying in bed. The silence was welcoming, and you didn’t care if they had left for the evening. But it was cold, so much colder than even five minutes ago. And Kaycee normally wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling you about it.   
With your arms wrapped tight around yourself, you stepped out into the living room. Or what was left of the living room. Every single piece of furniture was toppled over on its side, or ripped to shreds. Glass was shattered you quickly noticed as it sliced the bottom of your foot. Hobbling on one foot, you moved around the sharp pieces of glass, you called out once again. “Kaycee?”   
You were astounded at how fast the room had been ramshackled. You should have heard a struggle that would have caused this much damage.   
The kitchen was just as torn apart as the living room. All of the plates and glasses were shattered and thrown on the floor. You were starting to get worried, and scared. Leaving drops of blood behind you, you went towards her room, but it was just as empty as the rest of the apartment.   
The lights flickered as you made your way back to your room. Picking up the first aid kit as you went, you sank back down on your bed, checking your phone. But the screen was black and stayed black even when you tried turning it back on.   
Quickly you pulled the shards of glass from your foot, wrapping thick gauze around your foot. Your other foot hung over the edge of your bed, your toes still freezing cold as you tried to figure out what to do. Sure, there was a sign of struggle, but the only blood left behind was your own. Maybe they had gotten a little too rough and left before you had realized it.  
With your phone no longer working, you couldn’t call Kaycee up and check on her. You would just have to wait, and see if….  
Screeching out in horror as something rough and slimy wrapped around your ankle, giving it a sharp tug. Claws dug into your skin, digging painfully. Instinctively, you kicked out, once, twice before the grasp loosened.   
Your heart racing, you jumped from your bed, racing out of the room. The glass crunched underneath your feet, but you didn’t notice the pain. You could see a pair of red eyes glowing from underneath your bed, and you wanted to get as far away as possible.   
Throwing open the door, you rushed out, running straight into something hard enough that you both tumbled to the ground. “Whoa, what’s the rush?” A deep voice rumbled underneath you as you tried to catch your breath.   
“I...I saw…,” you stuttered, moving to stand up, pushing against a hard chest, away from whatever that was inside your apartment.   
“Hey, it’s okay,” the man said as he moved to stand up as well. “We’re here to help.”   
You could feel a panic attack coming on, and you tried to calm yourself down. But you knew you hadn’t imagined whatever had been in there, and it could come through the door at any… “Whoa, deep breaths. We’re here. You’re safe now.”   
Finally taking a deep breath, you looked up into a pair of beautiful green eyes, full of concern for a person he had just met. “How did you know I needed help?”  
“We were following the…,” he started to say when a man you hadn’t even noticed yet nudged him in the shoulder. “We heard some noise and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”   
Somehow, even though you didn’t know these men, you had a feeling you could trust them. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but there’s this thing and...my roommate, they’re gone.”  
“Where is it?” The taller man with the shaggy hair asked, pulling a gun from the back of his jeans.   
Your eyes widening at the sight of the gun, you shook your head. “I really don’t think a gun is going to take care of whatever is in there.”   
“Don’t worry,” the other man told you. “I’m Dean, that’s my brother Sammy. We specialize in taking down these types of things.”  
They both towered over you, having a silent communication while you hobbled from one foot to the other, the cuts on your feet stinging. “You’re hurt,” Dean noticed, staring down at the bloody floor underneath you. “Sam, you take care of the Monster, I’ll help…”  
“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”   
Suddenly you were being lifted in his arms while Sam made his way into the apartment. You lived on the first floor, so it wasn’t much of a trip before he was standing in front of a sleek black classic car. “Is this your car?”  
“Yep, she’s my baby,” he answered proudly, shifting you in his arms to open the back door. Setting you down gingerly, he left you for a moment, coming back with a first aid kit just as a shot sounded from your apartment. Eyes wide, you stared up at Dean. “My roommate?”   
Dean swallowed deeply before shaking his head. “I know you saw it. The monster. Well, it’s some sort of hybrid, and there is no way your friends could have made it.”   
“But there was no blood,” you argued as he began pulling more glass shards from your foot, wiping it with an alcohol wipe.   
Crying out at the sting, you winced away. “I’m sorry. Glass cuts are the worse,” he apologized as he began bandaging up your foot once again. “And this monster. He kills and he stashes. We might be able to find your friends, but they’re already dead. I’m so sorry.”   
“Monsters are real,” you whispered to yourself, not as surprised as you thought you would be. “It almost got me.”  
“I’m glad it didn’t,” Dean smiled up at you.   
Still, in shock, you stared down at his hand holding on to yours. “Listen, I know this is a lot to take in.”   
You nodded just as Sam came out of the apartment building, looking a little ruffled but okay. “I just...I feel bad for Kaycee and her friends. But the first thought is the apartment. She held the lease. What am I going to do now?”   
Ignoring Sam as he walked past him, Dean rubbed the pad of his thumb against your hand. “I don’t have the answers. But maybe we could go get a drink? Talk about it?”  
“I’d like that,” you answered. “But my clothes, they’re in there.”  
Standing up, Dean nodded at Sam. “I think you look beautiful the way you are. But tell me what you need.”   
You blushed under Dean’s compliment, quickly telling him to grab shoes and a couple of other things. While he and Sam went inside, you cuddled under Dean’s flannel. It had been one hell of an evening, and you were horrified at what happened to Kaycee and her friends. But you also had this glimmer of hope that maybe something good would come out of it. Something with a beautiful pair of green eyes.


	21. Your Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean x Reader

Netflix was on pause. Dean’s beautiful green eyes caught staring up, frozen in the moment. But that’s not what had your attention. It was the news on your phone that had your heart in your throat, tears spilling down your cheeks.   
You had just received the news that Supernatural was ending. Season 15 was it. After that the show that had given you so much would be nothing more than reruns. A wonderful memory to hopefully give you comfort.   
The video had been so hard to watch. Seeing the emotions crossing their faces, hearing the words you had dreaded so much. Tears had slipped down your cheek, your entire chest full of pain. You almost didn’t believe it, wondering if it was some cruel pre-April fools trick. But the looks on their faces confirmed the news, and you knew they wouldn’t be that mean.   
Sure, they had given you a year to accept the news. To try to come with grips that soon there would be no new episodes to look forward to. No behind the scenes pictures to giggle and speculate at.   
You didn’t hate them for it. You accepted the fact that they wanted to be with their families. That enough was enough. But you could only sit and wonder what it meant for you. Supernatural had been one of the few things that had kept you going. The promise of a new episode was one of the few things you had actually looked forward to.   
It scared you. Wondering how you were going to go on after the show was done. Knowing that most people would think it was ridiculous that you relied so heavily on just a show. But Supernatural was not just a show.   
Sure, you’d have some of the friends you’ve made, the stories you wrote or read. But it wouldn’t be the same. And you were scared you wouldn’t be able to handle it.   
Using the back of your hand, you wiped the tears from your face, reaching over to grab the forgotten remote. Needing to turn on Supernatural, to hear Sam and Dean’s voice. To get the comfort they always provided you.   
But the picture had faded away. Dean’s face no longer filled your TV screen. It seemed like an omen from the future, and it scared you. Your finger hovering above the power button, you froze when the black screen turned to gold.   
Your entire room seemed to hum, every hair on your body standing on end. The light emitting from your TV grew brighter and brighter before a large popping sound shook your window.  
Wishing you had some salt or iron, you slid off your bed, holding your remote as a weapon as two figures appeared in front of your TV. Their silhouettes seemed familiar, even though you couldn’t see any features.   
Ready to make a run for it, you froze when one of them said your name in a voice you had heard a thousand times before. But it couldn’t be, could it?”  
“Dean?” You whispered, reaching over and turning on your lamp before glancing back. Both Sam and Dean stood in front of your TV, watching you closely. Dean was wearing that red and blue plaid you loved so much, while Sam had a new gray and black flannel you had never seen before. “How are you…”  
“Here?” Dean finished for you. “We’re not sure. But we heard your name, and that you needed us.”   
“I must be dreaming,” you mumbled to yourself. “Or this is some horrible trick of my brain. You can’t be here. I can’t be…,”  
Dean moved the short distance towards you, taking your hands in his callused ones. They were warm, and a little softer than you had imagined. And felt oh so real. Your heart racing, you stared up into his mossy green eyes, eyes that had just been on your TV. “Sweetheart, this is not a dream.”   
“But what are you guys doing here?” You asked as Sam came to stand behind his brother.   
“We heard about you and thought you might like to join us. In our world. You could go hunting with us. Or if that’s not your cup of tea, you could research. Whatever you want. We don’t want to pull you away from your life here, but…,”  
Your mind was already whirling. There really wasn’t anything holding you here. No loved ones to really miss you if you went. No love of your life, or job that you lived for. Nothing, not really. “I want to go,” you exclaimed, and it seemed like it caught them by surprise.   
“Listen sweetheart, we came because we thought you might need us,” Dean said, making sure you were paying attention to every word. “But our life? It’s not all glamorous. We hunt, we get hurt. We’re messy, and constantly under threat. If you come, all of that will pertain to you as well. There’s no turning back. No wishing you could come back to this life.”  
With Dean’s hands still holding yours, you thought hard. Sure, you really didn’t have much that would miss you, but it was a big choice. One that you couldn’t take lightly. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed Dean’s hands. “I’ve made my decision. And I’m going to…….,” 

You get to decide! Do you stay, or do you go??


	22. God Was Never on Your Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 14 Finale Spoilers!!!!

“I don’t think we have to kill Jack!” You argued, standing in front of Dean, trying to keep him away from Jack and Cas. Dean had the new gun held tightly in his grip, his knuckles white with tension. You could see the clench of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, and you knew it was going to be the job of a lifetime to talk him out of his plan.   
Taking a deep breath, you placed your hand on his heart. Trying to remind him that you were all in this together. “I think Chuck is playing you. Playing all of us. There has to be another way.”   
Dean looked behind you, to where Cas stood close to Jack, his hand protectively holding Jack back. “I really wish there was. But we’ve tried so many things. And you heard him! He doesn’t even take any blame for killing my Mom!”   
Sighing, you stepped closer to Dean, your hand lowering to his wrist. “And that is because he doesn’t have a soul. You remember everything Sam did when he didn’t have a soul. Maybe we can talk to Chuck, figure something else out. Jack’s a good kid, he just needs a little help right now.”   
With your lip tugged between your teeth, you tried to find the words to make Dean realize you were right. But your hesitation was an open window for Dean, who pushed you to the side, holding the gun up and aiming it straight at Jack’s heart. “Listen kid, I’m sorry for this. But there’s no other way.”  
Jack took a step forward, kneeling on the ground, tilting his head down in acceptance, and you wanted to cry. To scream, or throw something in frustration. It couldn’t end this way. Jack was like a son to you. Sure, he had killed Mary, and you would probably never forgive him for that. But he was a part of your family, and he needed you there for him.   
“Dean, stop!” Sam called out, suddenly right behind the two of you, Chuck at his side. “We need to talk.”   
It was easy to see how flustered Dean was getting. Grinding his teeth, he turned to face Sam, his gun still aimed at Jack who was staring curiously at Chuck. “Talk? That’s all we’ve been doing, and it’s solved nothing! Chuck gave us the gun, and Jack is literally giving me permission. What more do you want?”   
Sam carefully moved closer to Dean, his hands in the air. “Dean, we’ve been played. Chuck has been playing us since before we were born, and I’m done with it. You should be too.”   
Sam had all of your attention now, while it was Chuck’s turn to grind his teeth. “What do you mean?” You asked.   
“We’re no more than pawns in Chuck’s stories. He stands back and watches as we fight monsters. As our family and friends die horrible deaths. All for his enjoyement. And that’s all this is! Just another little chapter in his book. Some enjoyment for him while we suffer. And it’s enough! We need to stop this!”   
Sam’s words were getting to Dean. With a look that could kill, he turned to Chuck, the gun falling to the ground. “No!” Chuck screamed. “You’re supposed to kill him! He killed your Mom! Don’t listen to Sam!”   
“You have been toying with us,” Dean grumbled, standing beside you, his hands clenched into fists. Chuck was infuriated, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Our lives have meant nothing to you!”   
Dean charged suddenly, right at Chuck, but with a swipe of his fingers, Dean went flying, crashing into a headstone.   
Everything else happened so suddenly. Sam raced forward, sliding on the ground, grabbing the gun. You moved over to Jack, both you and Cas helping him to his feet. Sam aimed the gun, pulling the trigger as you all watched in horror. The bullet landed in Chuck’s shoulder, just enough to annoy him. “Fine? I tried to help you, and this is the thanks I get? How about I make things a little interesting?”   
With a snap of his fingers, Jack suddenly fell to the ground, his eyes and mouth emitting a bright orange light. “Jack!” You exclaimed, moving to help him, but you were frozen to the ground.   
“There, Jack’s gone. But I don’t think that’s enough. Do you Dean?”   
“Stop it!” Dean called out, fear flashing in his eyes as Chuck raised his hand once again. With a grin that was not from this world, Chuck snapped his fingers, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Falling to the ground, you clutched your chest, gasping for air.   
“Chuck, stop it! Please!” Dean pleaded, bloody and bruised, but rushing towards you. Chuck shook his head, freezing him to his spot, so Dean could only watch you suffer. Black spots were filling your vision, your hands clawing at your throat, trying to get some air into your system. “You asked for this!” Chuck exclaimed. “I’ve come back to help you, and you shoot me? Well, I’ve had enough. Welcome to the end.”  
With those words, Chuck snapped his fingers, suddenly vanishing. Dean was able to move to your side, holding your head while you’re body started to shut down. The ground shook below you, light flashing as headstones exploded. “Y/N, oh god. I’m so sorry!” Dean exclaimed as Cas worked fast to save you.   
Squeezing Dean’s hand, you drifted off, your last thought on Dean. Hoping that he could once again stop the apocalypse. 

Coming to with a gasp, you sat straight up, glancing around you in surprise. The last thing you remembered was dying in Dean’s arms, the End of the World happening right around you. “Finally,” a familiar voice spoke up, and you looked up to see Billy, who was now known as Death standing in front of you, the scythe in her hands. “I’m going to need your help.”


	23. Just a Shopping Trip

Striding down the hallway of the mall, you couldn't help but smile. In your hands, you carried a couple of shopping bags, a surprise for both you and Dean.  
Your anti-possession bracelet dangled on your wrist, looking pretty in the light but offering you protection as well. Dean had wanted you to get the tattoo but turns out you were allergic to the ink.  
It was about time to head home, get ready to surprise Dean when he came home from visiting Jody. Dinner was already in the oven, you had just made a quick trip for the last few touches.  
Rounding the corner you saw the lights flicker, something brushing against your wrist before your bracelet snapped off, falling to the ground.   
"Shit," you muttered, reaching down to pick it up when a force slammed into you, quickly taking over.  
"Get out! You screamed as it crowded in, pushing you back into a tiny little cage. Laughing gleefully, it snapped the door shut, its eyes a dark onyx as it stared at you.  
"This is going to be so much fun," it told you gleefully before stepping away to take charge of your body.   
Stuck in the little cage no bigger than a dog kennel, you banged on the steel, your hands quickly getting bruised and bloody.  
The Demon ignored you, moving your body awkwardly forward, running into a wall.  
From your spot locked away in your mind, you could see a couple of teenage girls staring at you curiously. "I haven't possessed anything for a while," the Demon exclaimed, sending them scurrying forward.  
The Demon caught sight of a mirror, moving you forward, running your hands along your side before cupping your breasts. "I couldn't have picked a more beautiful meat suit. I can't wait to tear it apart."  
You were screaming by then, your throat raw, but you didn't care. You were trying to find a way out, a way to remove the Demon before he did something you couldn't live with.  
Whistling, the Demon forced your body to move, your limbs shaky and stiff. In only a couple of minutes you were at the outside door, the two young girls barely in front of you.  
Smiling over at them, the Demon shoved them into the alleyway, their heels catching on the rough pavement, knocking them to the ground. They screamed, their eyes wide as they stared up at you in horror.  
The glee the Demon was feeling radiated inside you as you screamed louder than the girls, hoping to break free from his grasp. "Don't you dare do anything," you threatened, but you were nothing more than an annoying fly in the Demons ear.  
Only minutes later you were standing at the side or your car, sticky with blood. It dripped down your arms, pooling into the bags you still carried.  
It had already started congealing on your face, looking more like freckles.  
"That was fun," the Demon exclaimed, sliding into your car just as your phone buzzed in your pocket. Reaching down, you held the phone in your hand, your movements out of your control. "Dean? Is this the infamous Dean Winchester texting you? My, I've gotten extremely lucky haven't I?"  
From your cage inside your mind, you could read the text, your blood running cold. Dean was on his way home. The had texted telling you he would be another hour out. "Don't you dare…," you started to threaten but the Demon easily cut you off.  
"Oh but I do dare," he taunted. "I'm in control now, and I'm going to ruin your life."  
With those parting words, he started your car, turning towards the bunker, following your memories.  
Sinking to the ground, you wrapped your arms around your knees, tears of frustration and fear trickling down your cheeks, landing on your Jean's. You couldn't believe this had happened. You wanted to warn Dean, but you had no idea how. Dean had told you that some people could fight possession, but you weren't sure you were strong enough.  
The Demon hummed as he used your body to steer the car, parking it in the garage. You tried as hard as you could to stop him as he strode down the hallway, your boots loud on the tile.  
"Hmm, is this your room? He asked, stepping into the room you shared with Dean. "This will do nicely."  
He placed around the room, running your fingers along your items, knocking some off without a care in the world. It wasn't until he came to your favorite knife that he finally slowed down. "This should do nicely."  
Settling down on the end of the bed, he pulled your flannel shirt away from your body, tossing it on the floor before toeing off your boots and then your jeans. You shook with fear and anger, your jaw clenched tight as you tried to figure out the Demon’s plan. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to end well for you.   
“I still remember being a human,” the Demon muttered inside your head as he ran the blade along your skin. “I was a medical examiner. Cutting up bodies, taking out their insides before sewing them back up so they could go in the ground. It was an unforgiving work. They never complained, never made a sound. I hated it. I wanted to know what it felt like. How deep the blade had to go before they screamed. How much blood they would lose before they couldn’t lose anymore.”   
You wanted to pull away, to fight. But he was in your head, controlling your movements, so you felt the first sting as he pressed the blade deep into your thigh. “I know each and every one of the veins and arteries that run through a body. Which will bleed out fast, which will do only a little damage. This one, it hurts, but that’s it.”   
“Stop it!” You screamed, almost pushing open the cage as he moved the knife up. “Uh, uh,” he chastised you before shoving the knife deep into your belly. Pain, white hot and blinding slammed through your body, your mind flashing a bright white as you tried to fight against the pain.   
“It hurts, doesn’t it? But I missed every single vital organ,” he explained, pulling the knife out, running his fingers through the blood as it poured out. “But it will bleed out if you don’t get medical attention.”   
You were crying now, your side burning. But that’s not what brought the tears. It was the thought that you weren’t going to make it through this. That you hadn’t been able to warn Dean. The Demon hummed to himself, never feeling the pain as he dug the knife into your skin. The white sheets underneath you had turned red, your body sticky with your blood.   
You were getting woozy, even though you knew that with the Demon inhabiting your body, you wouldn’t die. Not until he slipped from your body. You would be there when Dean arrived, another nightmare for you to face.   
And it sounded like it was coming sooner than you had expected. You heard the roar of the Impala before it shut off, the garage door being pushed open. “Y/N?” Dean called out, only moments away from finding you like this.   
“As much as I want to make Dean pay, I think it’s time for me to go,” the Demon whispered, fear suddenly lacing his voice at the thought of facing the infamous hunter. “But before I go there is one more thing I need to do.”   
Once more he picked up the knife, dragging it deeply across your wrist. It burned, but you were almost used to that by now. Blood welled up, pooling over, a move that would definitely end you once he finished possessing your body. “Goodbye, my darling. Thank you for the educational evening.”  
Suddenly your mouth was forced open, black smoke billowing out and you were once again in control of your body. But it still refused to move, weak from the wounds inflicted by your own hand. Tears slipped down your cheek as the door was pushed open, Dean throwing his bag on the ground as he stepped inside. “You’ll never believe the hunt we just finished. It was...Y/N?” He called out, his face turning ashen as he noticed the state you were in. “Y/N!” He screamed, coming to your side, staring in disbelief at the blood surrounding your body. “Sam! Get in here! Cas, I need you buddy!”   
Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding from your wrist. “Y/N, sweetie, what happened?”   
“Demon,” you whispered, your eyes wanting to close. “My bracelet...it’s gone,”   
Rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes just as Sam came running into the room. “What the hell happened. Y/N couldn’t have…,” he didn’t finish his sentence as he came to the other side of the bed.   
“No, it was a Demon,” Dean confirmed. “One that won’t be alive much longer. But help me!”   
You reached over, squeezing his hand. “Dean, I love you,” your words were only a whisper. Another tear slipped down your cheek before your head rolled to the side, the pain no more.   
“Y/N!” Dean yelled, taking his hand from yours, pressing them to your neck. “Sam, do something!”   
“Dean, she’s gone,” Sam said, while you stared down at yourself, quickly understanding where you were. You were in the in between. You could stay here, as a ghost, or a Reaper would guide you on to the afterlife. You just had a decision to make.  
You watched as Dean placed his head on your stomach, tears slipping down his cheek as he squeezed your hand. “No, she can’t be gone. I...I just…,”  
“It’s time,” the Reaper spoke beside you. “I’m sorry, but you’ve…,”  
You shook your head, interrupting her. “I’ve died. And it’s time to go on to Heaven. I am going to Heaven, right?”  
“I’m not here to tell you that,” she answered, holding her hand out. “But you have a choice to make. Stay here and slowly turn mad. Or you can go with me.”  
You knew the right move. You should go with her, to your Heaven where hopefully Dean would someday meet you. But seeing him there, so heartbroken. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet.


	24. Speaker Phone

“Where’s your precious little unicorn?” Meg asked as she stalked around me. She had this victorious smile on her face that I wanted nothing more than to wipe off, but I couldn’t. She had me tied down to an old surgery table, the rusted metal digging uncomfortably into my back. We were in some sort of old industrial type room, far away from the hotel room I had gone to sleep in.  
“Shut up bitch,” I growled, tugging at the leather tight on my wrists. Gone were my weapons, along with my flannel shirt and boots. I could see them folded nicely on the floor by the door, my phone laying on top. “Y/N is no concern of yours.”  
Meg chuckled, twirling the old talisman that she called a necklace. “Everything is of concern to me. Even that annoying little hunter you’ve shacked up with.”  
The words dug deep, my jaw clenching. I wanted to tear her limb from limb, and it was killing me that I could do no more than sit here and listen to her hateful words. “You leave her out of this!”   
She paused, slipping a knife out of her back pocket, twirling it in her hands. “Oh, that’s right!” She exclaimed. “The two of you were stupid enough to try and tie the knot. Imagine...hunter’s thinking they could actually get away with something normal.”   
I stayed silent, knowing she was itching for a fight. She wanted to goad me into anger, maybe even fear before she put her plan into motion. Narrowing her eyes, she stepped closer, my stomach clenched as she placed her hand on me. “Oh Dean…,” she sighed. “You’ll never be normal. Neither you, Y/N, or that brother of yours. You’re hunters, and you’ll die hunters. Probably alone and scared. For you? That will probably happen sooner rather than later.”   
“You won’t get away with it,” I threatened, just as my phone started ringing. Meg cocked her head before taking it off the pile, glancing at the name. “Ahh, it’s your sweetheart. Shall we talk to her?”   
I frantically shook my head, but she still clicked the green button, before standing back by me. “Don’t you dare tip her off,” she threatened, holding the knife close to my throat before pressing the speaker button.  
“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, her voice bubbly and excited, and for a moment I forgot I was tied down, kidnapped by a Demon. “You’ll never believe what I found today!”   
Meg nodded. Clearing my throat, I spoke, careful not to give anything away. Not yet. “What sweetheart?”   
Meg rolled her eyes, but Y/N quickly continued. “My dress. I finally found my dress, and it was at the thrift store in town. The one by the ice cream shop. Remember it? Only cost me 34 dollars!”   
“That’s great,” I choked out, tearing up at the thought that I might never get to see her in it. “I bet you look beautiful in it.”   
“You’re too sweet,” she giggled. “I also found this baker who will make a specialty cake for us. Do you remember a couple of months ago when I found the pie in the cake recipe?”   
“Pie in a cake?” Meg gagged, alerting Y/N to her presence. “That sounds absolutely disgusting, but definitely something that Dean might like.”  
“Meg? What the hell is going on?” Y/N asked, all the happiness out of her voice, on full alert. No doubt getting ready to get a hold of Sam and Cas. But by then it would probably be too late. Meg just had that feeling about her.  
“Oh your fiancee and I are spending some quality time together,” she purred. “I found out we’re in the same town, so I thought we could have a little get together.”   
“You hurt one hair on his head and I’ll…,” Y/N started to threaten, but Meg cut her off.  
“Ooh, you mean like this?” Meg asked, reaching up, grabbing hold of my hair and tugging sharply until I grunted in pain.   
“No!” Y/N called out. “Fine. What do you want?”  
Meg laughed. “What do I want? I want Lucifer to rise. For him to take over and you pathetic humans to become our slaves. That’s what I want.”   
“And kidnapping Dean? What’s that have to do with your plan?” Y/N asked as Meg started running the blade along my skin, not deep enough to leave a mark.   
“Fun,” Meg rebutted. “Dean, his brother, you. Even that Angel who drives me crazy have been nothing but thorns in my side. So getting Dean out of the way? That’s one step in the right direction.”  
Before Meg could hang up, I called out, wanting to give Y/N a message in case I never saw her again. “Y/N, don’t do anything stupid trying to rescue me. Just remember that I love you!”   
“Damn it, Dean,” she muttered, her voice thick with tears. “Don’t you dare give up on me! I’ll find you.”  
“Y/N, I don’t think he’s going to be around long enough for you to find him. Now, why don’t you be a good girl and keep you and that moose away from me. The Angel….I can handle him.”   
“Dean, I love you,” Y/N whispered. “And I won’t stop until we get this stupid demon bitch.”   
“How touching, but ouchie with the words,” Meg muttered. “How brave are you going to be when I dump his dead body on your doorstep? Because that, my dear, is the only way you’re getting your hunter back. He’s as good as gone to you. Better go return that wedding dress while you can.”   
Y/N let out a string of curse words, and I could barely hear Sam in the background. I hoped that I could hold on until they figured out where I was. But Meg had other ideas. Setting your phone down, Meg ran the knife across my belly, cutting the fabric as she went. “I hope you have a strong stomach,” she warned Y/N, before she sank the knife deep in my side.   
I could hear Y/N screaming, Meg laughing gleefully, but it was all distant to the pain radiating through my body. Meg left the phone call open as she dug into my skin, but I lost track of Y/N’s voice, trying to keep my cries of pain to a minimum. If she was still on the line, I didn’t want her knowing exaclty how bad it was.   
“Y/N, as much as I’ve enjoyed our time together,” Meg purred. “I’ve got to let you go now. I think Dean’s had enough, and I might be nice enough to put him out of his misery.


	25. Take a Drunk Girl Home

The leather of the stool had long since cracked, the foam barely cushioning me as I struggled to find a comfortable spot to sit. Evaporation slipped down my glass of whiskey, soaking my hand, but I didn’t notice.

My attention was on the other end of the bar, where a group of girls stood huddled around a tower of shot glasses. There had to be four or five girls, all giggling and bubbly. Not what I was used to at all. And while many could find it annoying, I found it refreshing. They were clueless and happy, and so unlike what my life had become.

“I’m calling it a night,” Sam, my brother announced, clapping my shoulder before heading out the door. I gave him a quick nod before turning my attention back to the group of girls. One in particular. She was off to the side of the group, trying to join into the festivities, but not exactly fitting in. Wearing a pair of ripped black jeans that hugged all her curves and a deep red shirt, she was dressed a lot more casual than the rest.

But it was the smile on her face that captured my attention. It was pasted onto her beautiful face, but as a person who faked it more often than not, I could easily recognize it in someone else. She downed another shot of tequila, her eyes flashing around the rest of the bar, landing on me in a moment of surprise.

Her gaze caught mine, both of us daring the other to make the first move. She took a hesitant step forward, but before she could move her friend reached over, pulling her attention back to her group of friends. Sighing, I turned back to my lonely glass of whiskey, telling myself a girl like that would never be interested in a man like me.

Without raising my gaze, I lifted two hands, ordering another drink, wondering if I could ever have enough whiskey to drown these feelings deep inside. Feelings that were only magnified when I realized that girl would never be interested in me.

“This seat taken?” I was asked, the voice full of nerves. I slowly glanced up, staring into the most beautiful pair of eyes I had ever seen. It was the girl from the end of the bar. She was busy tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her every move a little shy and unsure.

“It is now,” I assured her, nodding at the bartender who immediately understood. Coming forward with whiskey for me and tequila for her, he quickly scampered off. “I think this is what you were drinking.”

She chuckled. “I think it was the cheaper version, but yeah. Thank you.” She sipped the strong alcohol, glancing over at her friends who giggled as they stared your way.

I clinked my glass with hers. “Was this your idea or theirs?”

“Both,” she answered, her beautiful e/c eyes staring up at me, and for a moment I got lost inside them. In the idea that I could fall in love with a woman like her, settle down, have a normal life. I had never felt like this with anyone before, and a part of me wanted to pull back and run. “I just noticed you looking over earlier, and well I…, I usually don’t do things like this but…,”

“No, I get it,” I answered quickly. “I wanted to come over but I know how girls and their groups can be. To be honest? You scared me.”

She laughed then. “Us? We scared you? You seemed like the type of man who isn’t scared of anything. We were taking bets on your job. Some thought mafia, others thought FBI.”

“And you? What did you think?” I asked, turning farther to face her.

She stayed silent for a moment. “I had a hard time deciding. I thought maybe FBI was right, but no..you’re not that cold. So I was thinking maybe a hunter.”

Her answer caught me unaware and I almost slid off my seat in surprise. “What? Like..you mean...I hunt deer?”

She leaned closer, her voice soft and low. “I might not be a hunter, but I can still spot one. Easily. And you’re giving off all the signs.”

We spent the next hour talking, getting closer with each conversation. Glasses lined the counter in front of us, the bartender working hard to keep up with us. Y/N told me about her parents, how her Dad had been a hunter. He had taught her to be safe but pleaded with her to never become a hunter.

I had heard of her Dad, had actually met him once or twice. He had been pals with my Dad, and I loved watching the way her eyes sparkled at my stories. Her friends had long since gone on to the next bar, but Y/N had stayed, which had made me ecstatic.

But as the night wore on, I could see the haze in her eyes, the way her words slightly blurred together, and I knew it was time for her to get home and sleep it off. And as much as I didn’t want the evening to end, I didn’t want her embarrassing herself.

She let me walk her outside, leaning into my arm as I helped her to my car. “Are you taking me home?” She asked, her smile crooked as she smiled up at me.

“Who am I to pass up the opportunity to take a beautiful girl home?” I asked, reaching over to open the door for her. She had other thoughts, almost falling over into my arms, tilting her head up as she smiled. And if she wasn’t the perfect thing I had ever seen. I stared down at her, not wanting to move. Suddenly standing on tiptoes, she pressed her lips against mine. They were soft and warm and tasted lightly of cherries. I wanted nothing more than to pull her tight against me, but I ended up pushing her away.

“What…,” she started to mutter, her lips turning into a pout.

“I just want to get you home,” I told her, guiding her onto the passenger seat of my car, shutting the door after her.

She gave me her address before leaning her head against the window. Before I pulled the Impala out of the parking lot her eyes were closed, her breathing slowing down. I smiled to myself, wondering if I would ever have a chance with a woman like her.

It was only a ten-minute drive to her house. Parking on the sidewalk, I came around the door, slowly opening it as her eyes blinked open. “Are we home already?”

“Yeah,” I answered, letting her hand me the keys. She struggled out of the car, slumping in my arms, and I reached down, picking her up in my arms. She giggled, cuddling deeper, and for a moment I imagined I could have this. I could have her to come home too, to hold her in my arms. Sighing, I shoved those feelings aside, pushing open her door and stepping inside.

Her house was exactly as I would have expected. Light and airy, it was full of blue and cream colored furniture. I could see the subtle hints of her father, and I had a feeling there might be a devil’s trap underneath the rug.

I was going to ask her for directions, but I noticed her eyelids fluttering closed, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks, and I decided I could find my own way. Down the hallway, to the door at the very end. Pushing it open, I could immediately tell it was her room. A dark wooden bed sat in the place of honor in the middle of the room. A blue comforter covered in, looking plush and comfortable. A dresser that matched was off to the left, a chair and bookcase on the other side. Setting her down on the bed, I reached down, slipping her black boots off and tossing them to the side. She was stirring, turning to cuddle into her blankets, and I let her.

Finding her bathroom, I got out a couple of aspirin, setting them and a glass of water down on her nightstand, watching her sleep for a moment. She was beautiful, even with her hair fanning out about her head, her makeup smearing her pillow.

I knew this wasn’t like me. Not at all. I usually picked the hardened women. The ones that wanted a quick night of fun, nothing else. We satisfied each other’s urges before moving on. I never found one that I wanted to spend hours talking with. That I wanted to wake up with in the morning.

Tearing myself away from her bedside, I left her room, heading back to the living room. I saw a notepad off to the side, and I scribbled my phone number with nothing more than my name. Not knowing if she would remember me, but knowing I had to give a chance at happiness a shot.


	26. The Sweetness of a Kiss

Slamming the hotel door shut behind you, you froze as the cheap frame on the wall slid to the floor, the glass cracking. But you didn’t have time for that now. Not since…  
You still couldn’t believe that this was happening. After all these months of tiptoeing around each other, Dean had finally gotten up the nerve to ask you out.   
It hadn't been the most perfect timing. You had just taken down a shapeshifter. Standing there, the gun still smoking in your hand, you had blood all over your face. You were sore and exhausted, but all of that changed the moment Dean came bursting into the room, his eyes wide as he searched for you. "The shifter…," he started to ask before he noticed the dead body below you. "Are you okay?  
You had nodded, and in an instant he was over by you, wrapping you in his arms. At first, you were tense, surprised by the move. He pulled back. "I was worried. Y/N, I...can we have dinner together tonight?"  
"Like a date?" You clarified.  
"Like a date."  
You had nodded, and now here you were. Getting ready for dinner with a man who made your heart flutter, your hands sweat with any glance he sent your way. You had never imagined a day like this would come.   
Dean knocked on your door, and you took a deep breath, telling yourself it would be okay. After all, it was just another meal out with Dean. At least that's what you kept telling yourself. Nothing different.   
“Give me a minute!” You called out, realizing he was ready to go, and you were still standing there, covered in blood and sweat, not ready to go anywhere.   
You could hear Dean grumbling, but you ignored it as you rushed into the bathroom. With no time for a shower, you quickly washed yourself off as best as you could, unbraiding your hair to let it fall down your back. A little bit of eye shadow and mascara, along with your tinted lipgloss was all you had time for. Your dirty clothes were tossed on the floor, and you looked at your meager duffle bag contents in dismay.   
Finally, you settled on your cleanest t-shirt. It had been worn so many times the material was soft and worn almost through in spots. Led Zepplin’s name was faded across your chest, the shirt ripped to show a bit of cleavage.   
You only had one pair of clean jeans left, and you struggled to pull them over your hips. You had no idea why you packed them, they were the tightest pair of jeans you owned. Jeans you had been meaning to toss in the trash on more than one occasion.   
Your boots were the last things on, laced up over your smarting ankle just as Dean knocked again. “Hold your horses!” You exclaimed, tucking your key card, ID and stolen credit into your front pocket. Throwing the door open, you reached up to catch Dean as he almost fell through your door. “Um, Dean..,” you muttered as he pulled himself back up, smoothing down a green henley you had never seen him wear before.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “You were taking so long, I leaned against your door for a nap.”  
And just like that, all your nerves were gone. You glared at Dean, smacking him in the shoulder before you pushed past him to head to his precious Impala. You waited against the door as he strode forward, his hands loosely tucked in his pockets. He seemed calmer than before, looser than you were used to it. It was different, and it caught you off guard. “Everything okay with you?” You asked him as you bent down to climb in the low, classic car.   
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked, rubbing the keys between his fingers. “You look good cleaned up. Real good.”   
You chuckled, pushing your hair back awkwardly, not used to compliments. “As cleaned up as I could get considering you were in a hurry.”   
He rolled his eyes just as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Can’t you just take a freaking compliment for once?”   
“Thank you for the compliment,” you answered sarcastically. “You cleaned up pretty well for yourself.”   
You talked amicably for the rest of the short trip before Dean came to a stop in front of a Biggersons. “What? No fancy restaurant?”   
He shook his head. “Neither of us would have been happy at a fancy restaurant. You hate those places as much as I do. Here we can be ourselves, order whatever the hell we want, and get some pretty awesome pie to bring back.”   
In a way, you were a little disappointed. Sure, neither of you liked fancy restaurants. But somewhere different than a Biggersons would have been nice. An Italian restaurant, or...you don’t know. Something maybe that showed he was serious about this. “So, are you going to order the Turducken?”  
He narrowed his eyes, confused, which confused you. “You can’t tell me you forgot about your infamous sandwich. The one that made you high. It burped gray stuff Dean, you can’t forget that!”  
He chuckled, looking down at his menu. “Oh, that sandwich. Sorry, must still have shifter guts in my ear.”   
You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn’t believe that Dean could have forgotten that sandwich. In fact, he had refused to eat at Biggerson’s for almost two years after that Sandwich incident.   
Shoving your thoughts to the side, you ordered your meal, something completely different than a sandwich, and Dean did the same. While he perused the dessert menu, you finally had to ask. “Dean, why did you pick today?”   
His green eyes lifted from the pictures of pies, glancing at you, no doubt waiting for you to clarify. “I meant for a date. Why did you ask me out tonight?”   
He placed the menu down, reaching over and grasping your hand in his. The movement seemed mechanical, unlike him, and you wanted to pull your hand away. But you didn’t. “Y/N, we’ve been dancing around these feelings long enough. Seeing you standing there, over the shifter, I realized that I’ve been stupid. I shouldn’t hide these feelings. Not when we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”  
You stayed silent, searching his eyes. For what, you weren’t sure. Maybe to see if his words were truly sincere. Or because you loved looking into the depths of his green eyes. At the kindess, he always tried to keep hidden. The way the shimmered, mixed with specs of gold. But these eyes? They were almost cold and calculating, but you shook it off, saying ti was nothing more than the horrible lighting the cheap restaurant provided.   
Your food came, and you quickly dug in, starved at a long day of hunting. Dean ate heartily as well, ordering enough for two people. You laughed, reaching over and taking a breadstick from his plate, munching away as he glared your way.   
Dean ordered a whole pie to take back to the hotel room, paying the waitress while you waited outside. It was starting to rain, but you didn’t mind. The sidewalks were empty, the only outside light burned out. “Ready?” Dean asked, the pie in one hand as he stood by the door. You nodded, letting him walk you back to the car. Dean placed the pie carefully in the back seat, before climbing in beside you. But instead of starting the car, he sat there, his hands in his lap.  
“Is everything okay?” You asked.   
“I really didn’t think I’d like you as much as he did,” he muttered mysteriously. “I have all these memories, but they weren’t mine and I wasn’t sure…,”  
“Dean, what are you talking about?” You asked, your hunter instincts starting to kick in. Suddenly Dean leaned over, capturing your lips with his, pulling your attention away from the awkward conversation.   
His hands cupped the back of your neck, turning awkwardly on the bench. You had dreamt about this moment, quite a few times. But not like this. Sure, it was Dean, but he was also more romantic than many people believed. He should have made your first kiss more memorable.   
As those thoughts flittered through your mind while Dean kept his lips pressed against yours, you saw people rushing forward.   
“Y/N!” The voice called out, the same voice as the man currently kissing you. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Another Dean was rushing towards the Impala, a gun in his hand, Sam right beside him.  
“If that’s Dean, then who are…,” you started to ask, but the reflection in the rearview mirror confirmed your suspicions. You hadn’t killed all of the shifters after all.  
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to give you back,” this shifter Dean laughed, turning on the Impala just as the real Dean came to your window. You tried to unlock the door, but it wouldn’t budge.   
“Dean!” You exclaimed, just as the Shifter gunned the Impala backward, away from the Winchesters.   
“Don’t worry,” the shifter assured you. “I like this form, and I know you do too. I’ll keep it, and we can be happy together. Just wait and see.”   
You struggled to open the door, searching for a weapon. Anything to free yourself. Sighing in annoyance, the shifter grabbed you by the hair. “I hope you’ll forgive me,” he muttered before slamming your head against the window, rendering you unconscious.


End file.
